❝ Argument ❞ — Kwon Ohyul

~lngshot

~2.9k words. | lngshot masterlist |

You didn’t know how it had gotten this bad. It started with the usual small things like missed calls and canceled plans. But tonight, something inside you finally snapped.

“Why do you keep blowing me off?” you asked, voice sharp with months of built-up frustration as he stood by the door, already halfway out.

Ohyul barely glanced at you, checking something on his phone. “You know how busy I am. It’s not like I’m out having fun.”

“I do know,” you said, stepping closer, heart pounding. “Nowdays you leave before I even wake up and come back when I’m already asleep. You’re never here when I need you. I feel like I’m dating a ghost.”

He let out a tired sigh, finally looking up. “Can we not do this right now? I have to get to the company.”

“No, we’re doing this,” you insisted, blocking his path just enough to make him stop. “Every time I try to talk, you shut me down. ‘I’m busy,’ ‘Schedules,’ ‘Practice.’ What about me? What about us?”

“You know i care about you, i really do. I love you y/n but you're only thinking about yourself right now,” he snapped, voice louder now. “You have no idea what it’s like. Instead of supporting me, you’re making me feel guilty for doing what I have to do.”

“Supporting you?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “I’ve always been supporting you. But the second I ask for a little bit of you in return, I’m the selfish one?”

Ohyul ran a hand through his hair, clearly at the end of his patience. “This isn’t some normal 9-to-5 job. I can’t just clock out when you want me too”

He grabbed his jacket and bag, movements jerky and angry. “I don’t have time for this right now. We’ll talk later.”

“No,” you said quietly, the fight draining into cold resolve. “Maybe I just won’t talk at all. If that’s what you want then fine. I’ll give you the silence you clearly need.”

“Suit yourself,” Ohyul muttered. He didn’t even look back as he yanked the door open. It slammed shut behind him with a final, echoing bang that left the apartment feeling painfully empty. Fine. If silence was what he wanted, you’d give it to him.

~

It was well past 8 PM when you heard the front door open and shut again. You didn’t turn around. You stayed focused on the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with steady, deliberate movements. The soft sizzle of oil in the pan was the only sound in the apartment.

Ohyul stepped inside, kicking off his shoes with a heavy, exhausted sigh. He expected you to say something but there was nothing. You kept your back to him, ignoring his presence completely. He felt guilt settle in now.

He dropped his bag near the couch and collapsed onto it, rubbing his temples. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. After a few minutes, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Not gonna say anything?” he asked, voice low. He still hadn’t looked directly at you.

You kept your tone flat, eyes on the cutting board. “I’d rather not. Apparently I only think about myself.”

Ohyul rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, muttering something under his breath. Then he glanced toward the kitchen and froze.

You were wearing that thin, almost sheer black nightdress. The delicate fabric clung softly to your curves, the warm kitchen light making it nearly transparent in places. No bra underneath. Every subtle shift of your body revealed the gentle swell of your breasts and the faint outline of your nipples. The hem barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, and one delicate strap had slipped slightly off your shoulder.

His face flushed instantly, heat rushing up his neck. All the leftover anger tangled with a sudden, sharp surge of desire. He swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away.

“hmm—” The word came out hoarse.

He stood up slowly, almost involuntarily, and walked over to the kitchen island, stopping just behind you. Up close, the nightdress looked even more tempting.

“…You’re really going to keep ignoring me while dressed like that?” he murmured, his voice lower now, rough with conflicting emotions.

He took one more step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body behind yours. His hand hovered near the counter, fingers tense.

“Say something,” he said quietly, almost a plea wrapped in frustration. “Or don’t. Just… turn around and look at me.” You still ignored but you felt something warm bubble up inside you as ohyul stood closer.

"You said i haven't been giving you enough time right..." ohyul spoke again

"Not in the mood for this ohyul" you said and continued stirring some soup

"Im sorry" ohyul said

“I felt bad the moment I got to the company,” he continued, sounding genuinely regretful now. “I kept replaying everything I said… how I snapped at you. It’s just… these days with the comeback approaching, everything’s been so intense. I took all that frustration out on you, and I shouldn’t have.”

You swallowed hard as he apologized. Ohyul let out a slow breath, his hand finally settling lightly on the edge of the counter beside you.

“I know I’ve been distant,” he admitted, voice rough with exhaustion. “I know I’ve made you feel like you’re last on my list.”

He paused, then added more softly, “I love you like crazy....Even when I’m too tired or too stressed to show it.”

The warmth in your chest flared hotter, mixing with the leftover hurt. Your stirring slowed as you were fighting the urge to lean back into his chest. The argument from earlier still echoed in your mind but so did the sight of him standing behind you now.

“…You really think a quick ‘sorry’ fixes it?” you said, voice laced with both lingering anger and reluctant longing.

“Go back to your company or something since you’re so busy,” you muttered, voice edged with lingering hurt. You reached out and switched off the stove with a sharp click, then lightly pushed past him, trying to create some distance.

You only made it a few steps toward the living room before Ohyul moved.

His arms wrapped around you from behind in one smooth motion, pulling you gently but firmly against his chest. The sudden warmth of his body made your breath catch. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, his breath ghosted hot over the nape of your neck, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

“No… it won’t fix everything,” he murmured, voice low and rough with regret. “But I’m hoping it’s a start.” His hold tightened just slightly, possessive yet careful. His voice dipped, turning huskier as his gaze trailed down. “…I want to make it up to you. Let me take care of you tonight, my princess.”

The word “princess” slipped from his lips like it always used to—soft, intimate, and dangerously affectionate. It hit you harder than you expected, weakening your knees and melting some of the ice you’d tried to keep around your heart.

“Ohyul, I’m—” you started, but the words died in your throat the moment his lips pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear.

A soft gasp escaped you. His mouth was warm, trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck and across your shoulder, each one sending sparks straight through your body. One of his hands slid up from your waist, grazing lightly over the sheer fabric of your nightdress until his palm cupped your breast.

His thumb brushed across your already hardened nipple, teasing it through the thin material with slow, deliberate circles. Your back arched instinctively into his touch, a whimper slipping past your lips.

“I can stop if you want,” Ohyul whispered against your skin, his voice strained with restraint. He paused his movements, lips hovering just above your shoulder, giving you a moment even as his body pressed closer. You swallowed hard, chest rising and falling quickly. The fight in you had almost completely dissolved.

“No…” you breathed, voice shaky with need. “God, you drive me insane. Don’t stop.”

A low, relieved groan rumbled in Ohyul’s chest. His arms tightened around you as he resumed his kisses. He nipped gently at your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hand continued its slow exploration, squeezing and caressing your breast while his other hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of your hip through the nightdress, fingers teasing the hem as if asking permission to go further.

“I’ve missed spending time with you...” He rolled your nipple between his fingers, drawing another soft moan from you. “Let me make it right today”

Ohyul turned you around gently, his hands sliding to your waist. The moment you faced him, he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. You kissed him back just as fiercely, months of frustration and longing pouring into the way your mouths moved together.

He guided you backward toward the couch slowly. The back of your legs bumped against the edge, and you both dropped down together. Ohyul settled over you, his body warm and solid between your thighs as he braced himself on his elbows.

His hands immediately pushed the thin fabric of your nightdress higher up your thighs, bunching it around your hips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, while one hand slipped back to your breasts, palming and rubbing them through the sheer material. His thumb circled your hardened nipple, sending sharp sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Take it off…” he murmured against your lips, voice rough with need.

You pulled back just enough to let him. Ohyul sat up slightly and pulled the delicate nightdress up and over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air of the apartment hit your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his body.

He didn’t waste a second. His lips trailed lower—kissing down your jaw, your neck, until his mouth closed over one sensitive nipple. A soft moan escaped you as your back arched sharply off the couch.

Ohyul groaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. He knew exactly how to drive you crazy. His tongue flicked over the hardened peak, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, circling and teasing before he sucked it into his mouth with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. His hand moved to your other breast, kneading the soft flesh firmly while his thumb rolled and pinched the neglected nipple, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He alternated between them—licking, sucking, and gently biting one nipple while his fingers played with the other, pinching and tugging until both peaks were swollen, glistening, and aching with sensitivity. Every pull of his mouth and twist of his fingers made you whimper and squirm beneath him.

“Oh fuck… the sounds you're making,” he murmured .“I’ve missed the way you arch for me when I touch you like this.”

Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping it tighter as the pleasure was overwhelming. His movements were rougher than usual, with the same pent-up longing you’d both been carrying.

You could feel how hard he was through his pants, pressing insistently against your inner thigh as he continued his relentless nipple play.

“Ohyul…” you gasped, back arching higher, hips rolling up against him instinctively, seeking more friction. He lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust, lips shiny and swollen from his attention. One hand still cupped your breast, thumb lazily brushing over a glistening nipple as he spoke, voice low and strained.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he rasped, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss just below your breast. But instead of waiting for words, he shifted his weight and let one hand slide down between your bodies.

His fingers teased along the edge of your panties—the only piece of clothing still separating you from him. He stroked your clothed heat with slow, deliberate pressure, rubbing the fabric against your slick folds. The friction was maddeningly light, enough to make you ache but not enough to satisfy.

“Ohyul…” you whined, voice breaking with frustration and need. Your hand reached down, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. “Please… touch me there. I need you.”

A low, satisfied hum vibrated in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, finally hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. He tossed them aside and settled more comfortably between your thighs, spreading them wider with his hands.

He didn’t tease anymore.

Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, gathering your wetness before he pushed them inside you with one firm thrust. You cried out, back arching sharply off the couch as he immediately began pumping them. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers moving inside you filled the room soon.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Ohyul groaned, eyes fixed on where his fingers disappeared into your heat. He curled them just right, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke.

You could barely breathe through the pleasure—each thrust of his fingers sent sparks shooting up your spine, the coil in your belly tightening rapidly. He added a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he fucked you harder with his hand, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every deep plunge.

“So tight… so perfect,” he rasped, leaning down to kiss and bite at your inner thigh while his fingers never slowed. “Been too long since I felt you like this. I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

Your moans grew louder, hips bucking wildly against his hand as the pressure built unbearably. The wet squelching sounds mixed with your desperate whimpers, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Before you could tip over, Ohyul pulled his fingers out with a slick sound. You whined at the sudden emptiness, but the protest died on your lips when he lowered his head between your thighs.

He didn’t hesitate.

His tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your soaked folds, tasting you thoroughly before he sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked hard. At the same time, he pushed his two fingers back inside you, resuming that punishing rhythm—fucking you deep and fast while his tongue flicked and swirled around your swollen clit.

The dual sensation was too overwhelming. Ohyul groaned into your core, the vibrations sending fresh waves of pleasure through you. He ate you out like a man starved—messy, eager, and relentless—alternating between sucking your clit and thrusting his tongue inside you alongside his fingers.

Your thighs clamped around his head as the pleasure crested. “Ohyul—fuck, I’m—!”

He curled his fingers harder, sucking your clit with just the right pressure. Your orgasm crashed over you, back bowing off the couch as you came hard on his tongue and fingers. Waves of intense pleasure ripped through your body, leaving you trembling and gasping his name like a prayer. Ohyul didn’t stop— he worked you through every pulse, licking and fingering you gently as you rode it out.

He pressed one last soft kiss to your sensitive clit before lifting his head, lips shiny and swollen. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, and he brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze.

“You okay?” he murmured huskily, crawling back up your body to kiss you.

His hand stroked your side soothingly, but the hard press of his erection against your thigh told you he was far from done.

❝ Keep that mask on ❞ – Zhao James

~cortis

~1.7k words

Today was supposed to be your day off. Halloween night, and the city outside was alive with costumes, parties, and laughter echoing down the streets. But all you wanted was a quiet evening. Then your phone buzzed with your boyfriend, James’s name.

Two simple words lit up the screen:

Come over.

You sighed, a reluctant little smile pulling at your lips anyway. Once upon a time you’d loved Halloween— the thrill of it all, the excuses to dress up and be someone else for a night. But lately it just felt… boring. At least you had James.

You and James had been dating for a few months now. He was tall, confident, with that multilingual charm and a body sculpted from years of dancing and training just for fun. He made everything feel more exciting.

What James didn’t know (or at least you thought he didn’t) was that you had a massive thing for Ghostface. The mask, the voice, the whole dangerous vibe… it had always done something to you. You’d mentioned it once in passing months ago, probably while watching a horror movie together on Halloween, but you figured he’d forgotten.

Apparently not.

The apartment was quiet when you let yourself in with the spare key he’d given you. The lights were off, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of lightning from the storm rolling in. Rain pattered steadily against the windows.

“James?” you called softly, slipping off your shoes in the entryway.

No answer.

Then that voice... low, mechanical, and distorted through a voice changer:

“Lock the door, baby.”

Your heart didn’t jump in fear. It jumped with pure, electric excitement. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped out from the shadows, draped in a long black hooded robe. The iconic Ghostface mask stared back at you, knife glinting in one gloved hand.

James.

Even completely hidden, you knew it was him. The way he moved with that fluid, predatory grace, the height. And fuck… he looked incredibly hot like this. The mask suited him way too well. Your mind was already spinning: Holy shit, he actually remembered. He’s doing this for me. He tilted the mask slowly, that fixed grin somehow looking far too amused.

“You came on time” the modulated voice rasped, smooth and playful. He took one deliberate step closer, boots nearly silent on the floor. “Good girl.”

A rush of heat flooded through you.You bit your lip, eyes tracing the white mask and the broad frame underneath the robe.

“James…” you breathed, voice already breathy with arousal instead of nerves. Your hands itched to touch him. “You remembered.”

He let out a low, filtered chuckle that sent shivers straight down your spine.

“Of course I did. You thought I’d forget how you used to talk about Ghostface?” He closed the distance in two strides, pressing you back against the wall with his body. The cool edge of the prop knife traced lightly down the side of your neck. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. Knowing you’d walk in here and get wet the second you saw the costume.”

God, he’s so hot right now, you thought, pulse racing with excitement. The cold plastic brushing your skin, the distorted voice, the way his tall frame pinned you… it was everything you’d secretly fantasized about, and James was delivering it perfectly.

“Take the mask off,” you whispered.

There was no real protest in your tone, just teasing,because you didn’t actually want him to take it off so soon A low, filtered chuckle crackled through the voice changer.

“Why would I do that?” His free hand slid under your shirt, palm hot and possessive against your waist, fingers splaying across your skin. He rolled his hips forward slowly, letting you feel exactly how hard he already was beneath the robe. “It’s all about the mask, right? And you love this. I can already tell how soaked you are just from looking at you.”

His gloved fingers dipped lower, teasing the waistband of your pants as he leaned in, the screaming mask hovering close to your ear.

“Tell me how much you want Ghostface tonight,” he rasped, voice dropping even through the distortion. The knife clattered softly onto the nearby table. His hand slipped inside your panties, two fingers gliding through your already slick folds with a satisfied hum that vibrated through the modulator.

“Fuck… already this wet for me? Just from the mask?”

He pressed one finger inside you slowly, curling it just right while the mask stayed firmly in place, those dark eyes behind the mesh watching every little reaction on your face. You moaned softly, hips rocking against his hand, loving every second of it.

He looks so fucking hot, you thought again, head tipping back against the wall. My James… playing Ghostface just for me.

You moaned softly, hips rocking against his hand without shame. The black robe made his broad shoulders look even wider, the gloves on his hands adding this filthy edge that had your pussy clenching around his finger. Your confident, teasing boyfriend had turned himself into your secret fantasy, and he was nailing it.

“James…” you gasped, one hand sliding up to grip the back of his hooded head, fingers threading through the fabric where his hair would be. “You’re so hot like this. Fuck..”

The modulated voice let out another low, distorted chuckle that vibrated straight through you.

“Yeah? You like your boyfriend playing the big bad Ghostface?” He added a second finger, stretching you open slowly, while his hips kept grinding against you. You could feel how hard he was.

“Been dying to see that look on your face ever since you mentioned it. The way your eyes light up… the way you’re dripping all over my fingers right now.”

He pumped his fingers faster, the wet sounds filthy in the quiet apartment, mixing with the rain against the windows and your soft, needy moans. You tugged at the hood, pulling him closer until the cold plastic of the mask pressed against your cheek.

“Don’t take it off yet, keep the mask on” you whispered, voice breathy and shameless. “I want you like this… want Ghostface to fuck me tonight.”

“Greedy girl,” he rasped, the distortion making it sound even darker, even more dangerous in the best way. “You want the mask on while I bury my cock in you? While I make you scream for me?”

He pulled his fingers out suddenly, leaving you empty and whining. In one smooth motion, he carried you down the short hallway toward his bedroom. The robe swished around his legs as he moved, effortless with all that hidden strength.

The bedroom was just as dark, only the faint glow from the window lighting the way. James kicked the door shut behind you both and dropped you onto the bed, following right after. The mask loomed over you as he knelt between your spread thighs, gloved hands shoving your jeans and panties down in one rough tug, tossing them aside.

“Look at you,” he murmured, running one hand up your inner thigh, spreading you open for his gaze behind the mesh. “So fucking pretty and wet for Ghostface.”

He pushed the robe open just enough to free himself, his cock springing out. The white mask staring down at you while his bare, familiar cock rubbed teasingly through your slick folds. You reached up, palms sliding over the smooth plastic of the mask, then down to grip his shoulders through the robe.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, hips lifting to chase the friction. “Please, James…just do it”

He let out a rough laugh, the sound crackling through as he lined himself up. The thick tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, pushing in slowly.

“Shit… so tight,” he groaned, voice distorted and low. One hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip as he went deeper. The mask dipped closer, the screaming face hovering right above yours while he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that had the bed creaking.

Every thrust punched the air out of your lungs in soft, broken moans. The robe brushed against your bare skin with every movement, the gloves on his hands digging into your thighs as he held you open wider. You couldn’t stop staring at him your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath the fabric.

“Harder,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

James’s hips snapped forward faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room as he fucked you deeper. The distorted voice kept spilling filthy praise between thrusts:

“That’s it… take Ghostface’s cock like a good girl.”

“You’re creaming all over me already… fuck, you really do love this.”

“Gonna make you cum with the mask on, baby”

Your back arched off the bed, pleasure building fast and sharp as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you with every powerful thrust. You were so close already, thighs shaking, moans turning into desperate little cries.

“James— fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Come on,” he rasped, voice changer making it sound like a command. One gloved hand slipped between you, thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit while he kept pounding into you. “Cum for me. Cum for Ghostface.”

The orgasm hit you hard, crashing through you in waves that made your vision blur and your pussy clamp down around his cock. You cried out, nails raking down his back through the robe as pleasure flooded every nerve.

James groaned loudly, the sound cracking through the modulator, hips stuttering as he chased his own release. A few more deep, erratic thrusts and he buried himself, spilling hot inside you with a guttural moan that vibrated through the mask.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the rain outside. James reached up with one gloved hand, slowly lifting the mask just enough to reveal his mouth and chin — sweaty, lips curved in that familiar cocky smirk you loved.

“Happy Halloween, baby,” he murmured in his real voice, low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you properly. “Told you I’d make it fun again.”

❝ Teasing ❞ – Geum Seongje

-weak hero

~4k words Whc masterlist

Seongje sat straight-backed in the bowling room, the fluorescent lights above casting a cold glare on the polished table. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the flow of conversation, the words bouncing back and forth between Baekjin and some other union guys.

Then his phone buzzed.

Just once—short, deliberate. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But to Seongje, it was immediate. His fingers twitched subtly, reaching under the table to check the notification. One glance at the screen and his composure cracked, if only for a second.

It was from you.

He tapped it open.

A photo. A very familiar shirt. His shirt. The crisp white of his school uniform, oversized on you, buttoned only halfway. And nothing else in sight.

His breath caught in his throat.

The image was innocent enough—if someone didn’t know what they were looking at. But he knew. That was his uniform. That was his room. And that smug little smirk you wore in the photo? Fuck. you were doing this on purpose.

His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the phone. You were messing with him. While he was in the middle of an important meeting with Baekjin of all people.

“Seongje?”

He blinked. Baekjin had stopped talking, his eyes narrowing slightly at Seongje’s sudden silence.

“I—” Seongje stood abruptly, sliding the chair back. “i need to take this”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

The moment he was out the door, he was already calling you, the phone pressed tight to his ear, his free hand raking through his hair as he stalked down the hallway.

The line clicked. “You think you’re fucking funny?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.

Your laugh spilled through the line, light and sweet with a devilish edge. Seongje pressed his lips into a thin line, already feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck. He ducked into a quiet stairwell, leaning against the concrete wall, one hand braced against it as if the cool surface could ground him.

“You're not even wearing anything underneath, are you?” he asked, voice rough now, lower, darker. The image of you in his shirt—bare, a few undone buttons, that smirk—burned into his mind.

You sighed dramatically through the speaker. “Mmm… maybe just your cologne,” you murmured. “Smells like you. Feels like you too. Kinda wish it was you though…”

His grip on the phone tightened.

“Y/N,” he warned, but his voice betrayed him—already thick with need.

“What?” you purred. “You’re the one who left me all alone… I got bored. Thought I’d remind you what you’re missing.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Am I?” you whispered, sultry and sweet. “If you were here… what would you do, Seongje?”

He tilted his head back against the wall, jaw clenched. There was a long pause. You could hear the way he breathed—deep, heavy, trying to keep control.

His reply came slow, deliberate. “I’d make sure you couldn’t walk by the time I’m done.”

Your breath hitched, and he heard it—grinned at it.

“I’d pin you right against the bed wearing only that damn shirt,” he went on, voice now a smooth growl.

“And I wouldn’t even take it off. Just push it up, make you beg for more, make you say my name until your throat’s sore.”

You were silent now, biting your lip. The tension was electric even through the phone.Then Seongje chuckled—low, cocky.

“What? Quiet now? Thought you wanted to play.”

Your voice came out breathless, almost a whimper. “Seongje…”

He ran a hand through his hair again, composing himself just enough to speak clearly. “Just wait till I get back. Stay in that damn shirt and don't touch yourself,” he added firmly. “That’s mine to take care of.”

And before you could respond, the line cut—he’d hung up.

But not before whispering one last promise:

“Hope you can still talk by the time I’m done.”

.

.

.

Your heart had been racing since he hung up.

You did what he told you—stayed in his shirt, bare and mind spinning. The silence after the call was deafening, filled only by the distant ticking of the clock and the heavy thump of your pulse in your ears. Every second that passed just built up the tension, the anticipation.

Then came the knock. Sharp. Urgent.

Before you could fully process it, you were already moving, bare feet against the floor, hand trembling slightly as you reached for the door. You opened it—

And then you couldn’t even breathe.

Because Seongje didn’t say a word.

He didn’t smirk.

Didn’t greet you.

He grabbed you.

One arm snaked around your waist and shoved you inside as his other hand slammed the door shut behind him. The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall with a dull thud and your breath caught in your throat. His mouth was right there—hovering, dangerous, lips parted just slightly as his eyes scanned you, slow and hungry.

“You’re so fucking bold, huh?” he breathed out, voice low and rasped with restraint. “Wearing my shirt, sending me that shit during a meeting?” He laughed, but it wasn’t amused—it was dark, crazy, hungry.

His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, fingers grazing your bare skin. “You think I wouldn’t lose my fucking mind the second I saw that? You wanted me like this, didn’t you?”

You barely managed a word before his lips ghosted over yours—close enough to feel, not close enough to satisfy.

He smirked, tilting his head. “You gonna answer me, or you already too dumb to think?”

One of his legs slid between yours, pressing in just enough to make you shift, and his grip on your waist tightened.

“I rushed here,” he muttered, eyes dropping to your lips. “Didn’t even end the meeting with Baekjin. Just got up and left like a fucking maniac.”

Then, a pause—his eyes flicked back up to yours.

“Now you’re gonna pay for it.”

And with that, Seongje crashed his lips into yours like a wave breaking against a cliff—unrelenting, wild, needy. There was no softness in the way he kissed you, just raw heat and the taste of revenge for the hell you’d put him through. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you flush against him like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between your bodies.

You gasped into his mouth, and he took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding past your lips with a growl low in his throat. He tasted like mint and something darker—bitten-back frustration, lust sharpened into chaos. The wall was cold at your back, but Seongje’s body was burning.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered against your lips, breathless as he kissed down the side of your jaw, his voice ragged. “Do you know what you did to me?”

You whimpered when his teeth grazed your neck, and he chuckled—completely unhinged and loving it.

“You remember what I said on the phone?”

You nodded, breath shaky. “Y-Yeah.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, voice dark and dangerous.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m about to do every single fucking thing I promised.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you again—his grin crooked, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his eyes.

“And baby, I hope you’ve got all night.”

Before you could even catch your breath, Seongje grabbed you by the back of the thighs and lifted you with ease. You yelped, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he carried you through the hallway like you weighed nothing, his mouth still attacking your neck with feverish kisses and the occasional bite that made your toes curl.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled into your skin, lips dragging hot along your collarbone. “Mine to ruin, mine to fuck senseless, mine to hear screaming my name.”

He kicked the bedroom door open with his foot and didn’t slow down. The second your back hit the mattress, he was on you—hovering over you with that look in his eyes. That manic, beautiful kind of obsession that made your stomach twist and your thighs clench.

His hands yanked the shirt open, buttons popping and scattering across the sheets as he groaned at the sight underneath. “Fuck… just like that, baby. Just like I imagined.”

He didn’t give you a second to speak before pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your body like he owned every inch of it.

“Remember what I said?” he rasped, lips ghosting over your jaw as his knee nudged your thighs apart. “How I’d pin you down, leave this shirt on, and make you beg?”

You nodded, chest heaving, lips parted in anticipation.

Seongje smirked—feral, cocky, dripping with heat. “Good. Then shut up and take it.”

And then he kissed you again—hard—as his body sank down against yours.

He didn’t waste time.

With your wrists still pinned above your head, Seongje leaned down and dragged his tongue slowly along the side of your neck, letting out a low, guttural groan that vibrated against your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “Already squirming and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

His free hand slid between your legs, palm pressing against the heat there through barely-there fabric. You bucked your hips up instinctively, but he just pressed harder—teasing.

“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue. “You don’t get to be impatient. You started this, baby. You don’t get to rush now.”

He kissed down your chest, nipping and licking as he went, only pulling away to rip the last remaining layer from your body like it offended him. His shirt hung open on your body, collar half-off your shoulder as you writhed beneath him, and he looked up at you with a crooked grin and wild eyes.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” he muttered, sliding two fingers along your folds. “So wet for me already—were you touching yourself before I got here?”

Your breath hitched, and that was answer enough.

He laughed—deep and amused, but dark. “You’re unbelievable,” he growled,

Then his fingers sank into you—slow but deep, and you gasped, hips lifting off the bed, only for his palm to slam down on your thigh to hold you still.

“Stay the fuck down,” he snarled, pace quickening. “I said I’d make you beg, didn’t I?”

He curled his fingers just right, brushing that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and you cried out his name.

Seongje leaned down, licking over your bottom lip before biting it. “That’s it. Moan louder. Let the whole damn neighborhood know who’s making you feel this good.”

His fingers picked up a brutal rhythm, and you were already close—your body shaking, nerves on fire, your moans getting desperate.

But just when you were about to fall apart, he pulled away.

“Wha—Seongje!”

He smirked, licking his fingers slow. “Tasted too good to let you cum that easy, babe.”

Your body was trembling—slick, sensitive, and on the edge of unraveling. Every nerve screamed for release, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you looked up at him, eyes glassy with need.

But Seongje just watched you for a second—his head tilted, lips parted slightly, pupils blown so wide you could barely see the brown in his eyes anymore. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, the veins in his forearms flexing as he braced himself above you, hand still glistening from your arousal.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and ruined, almost awed. “Completely wrecked and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He leaned in, dragging his fingers up your thigh—slow, deliberate, possessive. “You feel that?” he asked, letting two fingers press lightly against your core again, not pushing in this time, just resting there to tease. “All this wet, this mess… this is mine.”

You whimpered, hips twitching, eyes begging for more.

That crooked, cocky smirk returned to his face—half dangerous, half starving. He leaned closer, his nose brushing yours.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice like silk over steel. “Because I’m about to ruin you.”

Then, finally, he sat up just enough to reach down—and with slow, sharp precision, undid his belt. The leather unbuckled with a soft snap, followed by the low clink of metal that made your breath hitch. His eyes never left yours as he slid the belt out of its loops, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the second you sent that photo,” he muttered, his tone dark and husky. “And now that I’ve got you right where I want you…”

His fingers trailed down your chest again, this time with intent.

“Now I’m gonna fuck you like I promised”

He shoved his pants down just far enough to free himself, thick and already rock hard, veins prominent, tip flushed and glistening. The sight alone made your thighs tremble—and Seongje noticed.

“Shit, you’re shaking already?” he huffed out a laugh, gripping himself at the base and giving a slow, teasing stroke while watching your every twitch. “Poor baby. You gonna cry when I stretch you out?”

Your breath caught, and he grinned like the devil.

He settled between your legs, grabbing your thighs and dragging you down the bed until your hips were at the edge of the mattress. “Keep those eyes on me,” he growled, lining himself up. “I wanna see your face when I slide into this perfect pussy.”

And then—fuck—he pushed in.

He didn’t go slow. No warning. No mercy.

You gasped—back arching, mouth falling open—as he bottomed out in one deep, possessive thrust that stole every thought from your head.

“Shit,” Seongje groaned, voice cracking with restraint. “You’re so fucking tight—gripping me like you missed this.”

He gave you no time to adjust. He pulled back and snapped his hips forward again, setting a brutal rhythm that made the bed frame slam into the wall and your moans turn to choked cries.

One hand grabbed your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, claiming—and the other pressed down on your hip, pinning you in place as he fucked into you like a man possessed.

“This what you wanted, huh?” he growled between ragged breaths. “You wear my shirt, send me that filthy little pic while I’m in a fucking meeting, knowing damn well I’d lose my mind?”

His hips slammed into yours harder.

“You wanted this,” he hissed, leaning down, sweat-slicked skin against yours. “Wanted me out of my mind, fucking you into the mattress like an animal.”

You couldn’t even answer—just desperate moans and breathless nods as he ruined you in the best way possible. Seongje kissed you again—biting your lip this time, tongue sliding hot and needy into your mouth as he fucked you through every word he promised on that call.

“I told you,” he whispered against your lips. “You were gonna regret teasing me.”

Then he slammed into you again, and again—and you knew…You were going to feel this for days.

"Fuck– seongje.."

You were already falling apart—legs shaking, throat hoarse from moaning his name like a prayer, your nails digging into the sheets for any kind of grounding. But Seongje wasn’t even close to done.

He could feel your walls fluttering around him, could see the way your eyes were rolling back just before you came—and he loved it.

“Fuck—there it is,” he hissed, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Cum for me. Right now.”

And you did.

Your body arched violently, pleasure crashing through you in waves, pulse pounding in your ears, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all.

But Seongje didn’t stop.

“Ah—wait—!” you gasped, trembling beneath him, overstimulated and still twitching.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he growled, voice rough and wrecked as he kept thrusting into your oversensitive core. “You’re not done. I said I was gonna ruin you, remember?”

He was relentless—slamming into you at a punishing pace, watching your face twist in pleasure-laced agony. Your hands scrambled for his arms, anything to slow him down, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head again.

“Take it,” he snarled, sweat dripping from his temple as he leaned in.

You were babbling now—words lost, cries spilling from your throat as the overstimulation pushed you past the edge again, this orgasm hitting harder, shaking your entire body.

“Fucking hell,” Seongje gasped, eyes dark, wild, obsessed. “You’re still clenching—shit, you like this, don’t you? Getting fucked dumb—my perfect little mess.”

You didn’t know how you had anything left to give. Your body felt like it had been set on fire and then thrown into bliss—shaking, overstimulated, soaked. But when Seongje leaned over you again, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes, lips brushing against your jaw, you couldn’t help the way your hips lifted for him again.

“Good fucking girl,” he breathed, kissing the side of your face, still grinding into you—slower now, but deeper, cruel in how perfectly he hit that spot that made you cry out. “Still moving for me. You’re so damn pretty when you break.”

Your hands fumbled up his back, weak and twitching, fingers digging into his slick skin. “Seongje—s’too much—gonna—”

“One more,” he panted against your lips. “Just one more, baby. C’mon. Let me feel you fall apart one more time.”

And when he snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub your overstimulated clit—fast, precise, unforgiving—you screamed.

It hit hard, too hard—your thighs clamped around him, your body arching off the mattress like you’d been shocked, and your voice cracked into a sob as you came with a force that made everything go white.

Seongje cursed under his breath—“Fuck, fuck, that’s it—” and with one last, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you and came hard, groaning your name like it was the only thing keeping him together.

He stayed there for a moment—both of you breathless, tangled, and shaking—before he finally moved.

“Shit,” he murmured, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your forehead. His tone had changed now—lower, softer, laced with something achingly tender. “You okay, baby?”

You could barely nod, your voice gone, lips parted in a dazed smile.

Seongje pulled out slowly—whispering apologies as you whimpered at the sensitivity—and then reached down, gently wiping between your legs with the shirt he’d thrown off earlier. He kissed your thighs afterward like they were sacred, then crawled up beside you, arms wrapping around your spent body.

“Damn… look at you,” he whispered into your hair, pulling the blanket over both of you. “You’re everything”

His lips pressed against your forehead.

“I got you. Always.”

And he held you close, fingers tracing soft circles into your back as your heartbeat slowed, the world quieting into warmth and safety in his arms.

You didn’t know how long you lay there wrapped in him—your cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, his fingers lazily combing through your hair. You’d melted into him completely, your body boneless and buzzing in the aftermath.

“You still breathing, princess?” Seongje murmured with a soft laugh, brushing a kiss to your temple.

You made a noise that was somewhere between a hum and a whimper.

“Didn’t mean to wreck you that bad,” he teased, shifting slightly so he could look down at you. “Actually… nah. I did. You looked so fucking good begging under me, baby.”

He grinned as you weakly smacked his chest, then caught your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Alright, alright. You earned it. Stay right here.”

Before you could argue, he was already sliding out of bed, grabbing a pair of joggers and padding out of the room—muttering something about "taking care of his girl."

Ten minutes later, he came back with a tray: cold water, your favorite snack, a warm damp towel, and the softest oversized hoodie he owned.

He placed the tray carefully beside you, then sat on the bed and opened his arms. “C’mere, baby.”

You let him pull you into his lap, hoodie first, then a kiss on your cheek, then he fed you a bite of the snack with a satisfied smile like he’d just scored a victory.

“You looked so pretty in my shirt earlier,” he said between sips of water he handed you. “But this look?” He ran a hand down your bare thigh, where it peeked out from under his hoodie. “Post-sex glow, legs shaking, wearing my clothes—fuck, I’m obsessed with you.”

You laughed tiredly, cheeks burning. “You’re ridiculous.”

Seongje grinned. “Only for you.”

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing you in, arms wrapped tight around you as he whispered, “No one else gets this. No one else gets you. I’m gonna take care of you so well, baby. Always.”

And he meant it.

Because to Seongje, spoiling you wasn’t just about snacks or kisses—it was about worshipping you in every way. Even if that meant holding you for hours, stroking your hair until you fell asleep against his chest, protected and loved, exactly where you belonged.

❝ Our princess ❞ - part 2

~cortis

~2.2k words

You stopped to buy something in the convenience store, a can of sode in your hand, when you spotted them—Juhoon and Mina. They were standing near the snack aisle, alone. At first, you told yourself it was nothing. They were probably just grabbing something to eat before meeting the rest of the group after classes. But then Mina leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering peck to Juhoon’s cheek. He turned shyly away, a small, flustered smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart dropped. The can of soda you’d been holding slipped from your fingers and hit the tiled floor with a loud, metallic clang that echoed through the quiet store. Both of them whipped their heads toward the sound. Juhoon’s eyes met yours instantly. For a split second, something like guilt flashed across his face. You didnt wait and practically ran out of the store, the automatic doors barely sliding open fast enough. The cool evening air hit your face, but it did nothing to stop the tears already blurring your vision.

You didn’t know where you were going. You just walked, eyes stinging, and the world reduced to a watery smear of streetlights and passing bikes. Until you collided straight into someone.

“..sorry,” you mumbled instinctively, trying to sidestep.

“Wait— are you crying?”

The voice was gentle, warm, and a little worried. You blinked and looked up.

Standing in front of you was a boy who looked around your age, with soft features, kind eyes, and slightly messy bangs that fell all over his forehead. He seemed genuinely concerned.

You quickly wiped at your eyes. “No— no, I’m fine.”

You tried to move past him, but he gently stepped sideways, blocking your path without being forceful.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” he asked softly. He hesitated for a second, then placed a careful, reassuring hand on your shoulder and gave it a light, comforting pat.

“It’s nothing that bad…” you whispered, voice cracking just a little as you forced yourself to breathe slower. The kindness in his tone made it harder to keep the tears in.

He tilted his head slightly and his eyes softened with concern as he watched you try to pull yourself together. He didn’t push, but he also didn’t step away. Instead, he kept his voice low and gentle, like he was afraid any sudden movement might scare you.

“Hey… it’s okay if it’s not nothing,” he said softly, his hand still resting lightly on your shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but… you really look like you could use a friend right now. Even if it’s just someone to stand here with you for a minute.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat refusing to disappear. A few stubborn tears slipped down your cheeks despite your best efforts. He slowly lowered his hand from your shoulder, giving you space, but stayed close enough that you didn’t feel alone on the quiet street.

“If you want… I could give you a hug?” he offered hesitantly, his cheeks tinting a faint pink. “Only if you’re okay with it. Sometimes it just helps when everything feels too heavy.”

You hesitated for a second, then gave a small, shaky nod.

He stepped forward carefully, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. The faint scent of his perfume filled your senses as you let yourself lean into the unexpected kindness for a moment.

After a few seconds, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, still keeping his hands lightly on your arms.

“Feeling even a tiny bit better?” he asked with a small, hopeful smile.

You nodded again, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Your voice came out quieter than you expected. “Yeah… thank you.”

He let out a soft breath of relief and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking a little shy now that the hug was over.

“I’m Louis, by the way,” he said, pronouncing it clearly with a french accent. “I just moved here two days ago, so… I don’t really know anyone yet. Guess I picked the perfect time to bump into someone, huh?”

You were still standing there with Louis, his lively presence slowly easing the sharp ache in your chest. The hug had been brief but warm, and now he was giving you a little space again, his kind eyes watching you patiently as you tried to steady your breathing.

Unbeknownst to you, Juhoon had followed you out of the convenience store.

He’d left Mina standing there with a confused look on her face the moment he saw you bolt. His feet had moved before his mind could catch up.He turned the corner just in time to see it.

You, wrapped in the arms of a stranger. The boy’s hands resting carefully on your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles. The way you leaned into him, even if just for a moment. The soft way the stranger spoke to you afterward, that small shy smile on his face.

Something sharp twisted deep in Juhoon’s chest. His fingers curled tightly at his sides until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to walk over, to explain, to tell you it wasn’t what it looked like… but the words died in his throat.He took one shaky step forward, then stopped.

With a heavy, painful exhale, Juhoon turned around. His shoulders slumped as he forced himself to walk away, footsteps quiet against the pavement. Each step felt heavier than the last, the image of you in that stranger’s hug burned into his mind.

Back on the street, Louis was still speaking in that soft, reassuring tone.

“I know we literally just met, but… if you ever want to talk about whatever happened, or even if you just need someone to walk with you so you’re not alone right now, I’m here,” he said, offering a small, genuine smile.

.

.

Once you got home, you closed the door behind you and let out a small, content smile. Louis had been a breath of fresh air today. The two of you ended up talking about everything: favorite snacks, good songs, and how moving to a new place felt both exciting and lonely. Before you knew it, you’d exchanged numbers. For the first time in weeks, your heart felt a little lighter.

You flopped onto your bed, still smiling at your phone screen as you saved his contact. But your happiness was short-lived. Your phone buzzed again— not with a friendly follow-up from Louis, but with a message from Juhoon.

You stared at the notification for a long moment. After you’d left the group chat, the boys had tried reaching out individually. A flood of texts at first: some blaming you for “overreacting,” others half-apologizing while still defending Mina, a few guilt-tripping you about how things used to be. You hadn’t replied to any of them. They didn’t deserve your energy. You sighed heavily and opened the message.

You closed his chat, chest still tight with frustration and leftover hurt. Then another message popped up. This time, it was Louis. Your smile returned almost instantly as opened it right away.

~ A few days later ~

You spent most of your time with Louis now. He had quickly become your safe space. The two of you met almost every day for walks around the park, late-night convenience store runs, or just sitting on the bench near the entrance of the neighborhood while talking about anything stupid. And Louis wasn’t alone in looking out for you. He had an older sister, Rachel, who was two years older than you. She treated you like a little sister from the very first time Louis brought you home. And also his cat, hunter

Something in you started to loosen after that conversation and you had officially blocked them. The ache of losing them slowly began to fade, replaced by an acceptance. You could finally let it go. It still hurt sometimes, but it no longer felt like it was crushing you. And now being with Louis felt… nice.

Their individual messages went unanswered. Calls rang through to voicemail. Every time you spotted one of the boys, you turned and walked the other way. If they tried to approach, you kept your eyes straight ahead and pretended you didn’t hear them calling your name. Mina had texted you once to apologise too. She didn’t deserve your words either

~~~~

The sun had already dipped below the horizon as you walked with louis. You’d spent the afternoon together again. You were laughing at one of his terrible jokes when you suddenly spotted them.

They were walking along the same path ahead, hands in their pockets, talking quietly among themselves. Mina wasn’t with them this time. Your stomach twisted instantly. The familiar urge to turn and disappear hit. Before you could take even one step back, Louis gently caught your hand.

“I’m here,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. We can keep walking.”

His words grounded you. You exhaled shakily and stayed put, heart racing as the boys noticed you. Just as you feared, they almost came running.

“Y/n, please...we gotta talk,” Martin called out first, his usual loud energy cracking with urgency as he jogged closer.

“How long are you gonna ignore us for?” James asked, stopping a few feet away. His voice was quieter than normal, laced with regret.

You stood frozen, Louis still holding your hand firmly. The other boys’ eyes darted to him immediately, eyeing him like he was an intruder from another world. Juhoon’s gaze lingered the longest— a flash of surprise mixed with jealousy.

“What? What else is there to talk about?” you finally said, frustration spilling out. Your voice shook, but it felt good to let it show.

Their faces fell. For a moment, all five of them looked genuinely guilty— shoulders slumping, eyes dropping to the ground. The confident neighborhood knights you had grown up with seemed smaller under the dimming evening light.

“Mina confessed about lying…” Keonho said quietly, his voice barely audible over the soft rustle of leaves.

“She what?” you repeated deliberately, needing to hear it again.

Keonho swallowed hard and repeated, clearer this time, “She confessed about the whole thing… She admitted she made it all up. You didn't do anything...”

“Look, we—” Seonghyeon started, stepping forward with his hands slightly raised, but you cut him off sharply.

“Stop.”

The single word hung in the cool evening air. Seonghyeon froze. The rest of them did too. You took a steadying breath, Louis’s thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your hand, giving you strength.

“You believed her,” you continued, voice firmer now.

“Without even asking my side. After years of calling me your princess, after every single heartbreak and joy we've been through….a new girl comes and i suddenly became the villain? You all turned on me that fast.”

Martin opened his mouth, but you kept going, the words you’d held in for weeks finally pouring out.

“And now you show up because Mina finally admitted the truth? Not because you realized something felt wrong on your own? Not because you actually missed me?” Your eyes burned, but you blinked the tears back. “I spent weeks feeling replaced, watching your posts with her like I never existed. I had to hear Juhoon tell me to apologize to her. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

Juhoon flinched at his name, looking away into the darkening park. He couldn’t meet your eyes. James rubbed the back of his neck, voice rough with emotion. “We know we messed up. Badly. We were complete idiots. We just… we want to fix this, y/n. Please. You’re still our—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, the word sharp. “Don’t call me that anymore. You lost the right to call me your princess the moment you chose her over me without question.”

Louis remained quiet and steady beside you, a calm anchor in the tense moment. He didn’t speak for you, he simply held your hand, letting you stand tall on your own.

The boys looked devastated under the soft glow of the street lamps that had just flickered on. Martin’s bravado had completely vanished, Keonho’s eyes were glassy, Seonghyeon looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him and well Juhoon...his expression was the most pained, jaw clenched tight as if he was holding back words he knew wouldn’t help.

“We’re sorry,” James said at last, his voice cracking slightly. “Truly. Give us a chance to make it right. We can go back to how things were before—”

“No,” you replied softly but with finality, the evening breeze stirring your hair. “I can’t go back...I’m done being ignored, replaced, and blamed without proof. I’ve found people who choose me first with no questions asked.”

Your gaze flicked briefly to Louis. He gave you a small, proud nod, his hand never leaving yours. You looked back at the five boys who had once been your entire world.

“I hope you treat whoever comes next better than you treated me,” you said quietly. “But I’m not coming back.”

With that, you turned away, still holding Louis’s hand, and started walking down the path. Behind you, their voices overlapped — calling your name, offering more apologies, pleading for just a minute more but you didn’t look back.

Louis walked beside you in comfortable silence for a few moments before speaking gently.

“You okay?” he asked

You nodded, a content sigh leaving your mouth. You felt lighter after telling them off.

“Yeah, I think… I’m going to be okay now.” you whispered, squeezing his hand

The street lights glowed softly around you as you walked further into the evening, leaving the old group standing heartbroken on the path, watching the girl they once protected disappear with someone new.

♡♡ the end ♡♡

To all the people who were waiting for this

@coconhovr @srtayoshida @pbananalover @ykvdani @lovenh7 @mariainchapters @yvanille8 @valkyraeblack @louiscoree @ririiluv @yajw @doudousoya @claire0-02 @twinklingsparkling @h0neylemon @luvpadron @thesvxntyb @inlirium

❝ Our princess ❞ - Cortis ot5

~1.5k words

The six of you had been inseparable as kids. Six houses clustered together in a small neighborhood. You were the only girl in the group since you were little as you’d all grown up running through the same streets, sharing the same scraped knees and secrets. They treated you like their princess. James would carry your bag without asking. Seonghyeon saved you the best seat everywhere. Martin teased you the most but threatened anyone who looked at you wrong. Keonho remembered every little thing you liked. Juhoon made sure you never walked home alone, even if it was just thirty seconds across the street.

You were their princess and they were your knights.

Until the new family moved into the empty house at the end of the street. They had a girl, Mina. She was stunning: long wavy hair, a cute laugh, and an easy way of talking that pulled people in. She was your age, seventeen, and when you spotted the moving truck, you were genuinely excited.

“We should go welcome her,” you’d said that afternoon, perched on the counter in Seonghyeon’s garage while the five of them raided the mini-fridge. “It’ll be nice to have another girl around. I’ve never had a close girl friend before.”

James had raised an eyebrow, ruffling your hair. “What, we’re not enough for you anymore?”

You laughed and swatted his hand away. “I love you guys, but sometimes I want to talk about girly stuff and have sleepovers”

Martin grinned. “If you want her in, she’s in”

At first, it really was fun.

You and Mina became inseparable for a couple of weeks. You’d spend afternoons in your room doing face masks while ranting about dramas, giggling over celebrity crushes, and sharing secrets you’d never tell the boys. Having a girl best friend felt like something you’d been missing without even realizing it. The guys teased you about your girl's club, but they still included Mina in group hangouts, and everything seemed… perfect.

Then the shift started so quietly you almost missed it.

Mina began replying slower to your texts. She’d suddenly remember “something important” when you suggested a duo hangout. At group meetups she’d sit closer to the boys, laughing extra loud at Martin’s jokes, asking James for help with the smallest things, complimenting Keonho on his talents until he blushed. You told yourself it was fine. She was just getting comfortable.

But the distance grew.

And then came that afternoon.

You were running a little late to the usual hangout spot that you’d all claimed as “yours” since you were kids. The rusty swings, the faded slide, the bench under the big oak tree where you’d shared countless secrets. The moment you turned the corner, your steps faltered.

Mina was sitting on the bench, head down, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. All five boys were gathered around her — James with a hand on her back, Seonghyeon crouched in front, Martin pacing angrily, Keonho handing her tissues, and Juhoon… kneeling right beside her, gently brushing hair out of her tear-streaked face.

“Hey… what’s wrong??” You rushed forward, heart racing with worry. You reached out and placed a gentle hand on Mina’s shoulder. “Mina, are you okay?”

Martin’s hand shot out instantly, knocking yours away. “Don’t touch her.”

You froze, stunned. “What…?”

Keonho’s voice was cold, sharper than you’d ever heard it. “The audacity. When you’re the one who made her cry.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. “Huh? Me? When did I—”

“Why would you do that?” James cut in, his usual calm tone laced with disappointment.

Your face dropped. “But I didn’t even do anything… I swear—”

Mina let out another loud sob, burying her face in her hands. The sound echoed in the quiet playground.

Seonghyeon stood up slowly, arms crossed. “You insulted her. Pushed her down because you were jealous she’s getting close to us. Didn’t you?”

“W-what—? I didn’t even—??” Your voice cracked. Panic was rising fast, a tight knot forming in your throat. Why was Mina lying? You glanced at her through blurry vision. For a split second mina’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smirk. Then she was crying again, even harder, looking small and fragile.

“Stop lying,” you said, voice shaking as you stared straight at her. “Mina, why are you—”

“I’m sorry…” Mina whispered in a tiny, broken voice, looking up at the boys with wide, teary eyes. “I’m sorry I came between you guys… Please don’t hit me again…”

The words hit like a slap.

“What’s wrong with you, y/n…” Juhoon said quietly. He didn’t even look at you. Instead, he knelt closer to Mina, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks with his sleeve. His voice was soft, protective — the same tone he used to use only with you. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach.

Of all five of them… Juhoon was the one you liked. A lot. The moments you’d shared with him, the way he always made sure you were okay first, the shy smiles he gave only you. Seeing him comfort her like that felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under you. Tears pricked at your eyes. You blinked hard, trying to hold them back.

“I didn’t… I would never…” Your voice came out small, broken. “Why are you believing her? I’ve never hurt anyone—”

Martin scoffed. “We saw the way you’ve been acting lately. Annoyed whenever she’s around. This was just the breaking point, huh?”

James shook his head, looking almost sad. “We thought you were better than this, y/n”

Seonghyeon turned away, unable to even look at you. Keonho stayed silent, but his expression said everything. Juhoon still hadn’t glanced in your direction. He was murmuring something gentle to Mina, his hand resting lightly on her arm.

You stood there, frozen, the knot in your throat choking you. The playground that had always been safe now felt like a battlefield. Your knights were now standing guard around someone else.

And the princess… was suddenly the villain.

Tears finally spilled over. You took one shaky step back.

“I… I didn’t do it,” you whispered one last time.

No one answered. The only sound was Mina’s soft, convincing sobs and the creak of the old swing in the wind.

~

The days after the playground incident were hell. The boys barely spoke to you anymore. James, who used to check on you every evening with a simple “you home safe?” sent nothing.

Seonghyeon’s garage light stayed on most nights, but when you walked past, the laughter inside didn’t include your name. Martin’s loud teasing? Gone. He’d wave half-heartedly if you crossed paths on the street, then look away.

Keonho still left snacks on your porch sometimes — out of habit, maybe — but he never reached out

And Juhoon… he avoided your eyes completely. The boy who once saved you a seat next to him, now scrolled on his phone whenever you were near. You started spending more time alone.

You’d sit on your windowsill with your knees to your chest, watching the five of them + Mina laugh in Seonghyeon’s driveway or play basketball in James’s backyard. Mina fit in like she’d always belonged there — perched on the hood of a car, stealing sips from Martin’s drink, leaning against Juhoon while he showed her something on his phone.

Your phone became both a lifeline and a weapon. It buzzed constantly with their updates, even though you were no longer tagged.

Martin posted a boomerang of the group at the arcade — Mina in the middle, laughing as James helped her with the claw machine. Caption: “Best night 🔥”

Seonghyeon shared a photo of everyone eating ramen at the convenience store near the park. You used to be the one who always got the extra egg. Now Mina was holding chopsticks up in a peace sign beside Juhoon.

Keonho posted a quiet aesthetic shot of the playground bench at golden hour. No caption. Just the location tag: “Our spot.”

Juhoon’s story was the worst. It was a short video of Mina trying (and failing) to make a trick shot on the basketball court. His comment on his own story: “She’s getting better 😂”

Each notification felt like a tiny cut.

You weren’t invited anymore. The group chat itself had gone eerily quiet on your end. Messages still appeared but you were left on read or replied to with short, polite answers that felt worse than silence.

You felt replaced.

But more than sadness, anger started to simmer underneath. They had believed Mina without even giving you a chance to explain. After years of you being their “princess,” one lie from a girl they’d known for weeks was enough to turn them against you. The knights who once swore to protect you had handed their swords to someone else.

One evening, after another night of staring at the ceiling while their laughter drifted through your open window, you couldn’t take it anymore. You opened the group chat and your thumb hovered. The title now felt like a cruel joke.

You left the chat after that. Then you turned your phone face-down, curled up on your bed, and let the tears come properly this time.

A/n:Do you guys want part 2?

Part 2 here

Check out the cortis masterlist

~weak hero class

~700 words

It’s freezing outside.

The kind of biting cold that cuts through layers, painting noses pink and making breath curl in the air like smoke. You're sitting beside him on a concrete ledge behind the school, huddled up in your jacket. Sieun’s next to you, hoodie up, sleeves pulled over his hands, looking straight ahead with that usual unreadable stare.

He hasn’t said much in the past ten minutes. Not that you mind. You’ve always liked the quiet with him. Its just… calm. Comfortable.

But then you notice it.

“Your lips are chapped,” you say, glancing at him sideways.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at you. “So?”

You reach into your pocket, pull out a small tube of lip balm, and wiggle it in front of his face.

“I brought this. Let me help.”

He raises an eyebrow, finally turning to you. His eyes flick to the balm, then to your hand, then back to your face.

“I’m not a kid,” he mutters.

“I didn’t say you were. I’m just being nice,” you reply, uncapping it.

He stares at you for another moment in that typical Sieun silence that always feels like a test. Then he sighs and leans slightly toward you.

“Fine. Do it.”

Your heart stutters. You didn’t actually expect him to say yes.

You lift your hand slowly, the lip balm poised between your fingers. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, even as you move closer, close enough to smell the faint scent of his shampoo. Clean. Warm. Like something grounding.

“Stay still,” you whisper, voice softer than you meant it to be.

His lips part just a little. You gently swipe the balm across his bottom lip, then the top. They’re dry, just like you said. A little cracked near the corner. He doesn’t flinch and just watches you, Quietly.

You finish, heart thudding like an idiot.

Then, right as you're pulling back, your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

“There,” you murmur. “Much better.”

You expect him to roll his eyes, maybe wipe it off with his sleeve. But he doesn't.

Instead, he says quietly, “You missed a spot.”

Your eyes flick up. “Where?”

His gaze drops to your lips. “Here.”

You freeze.

It’s not a joke. Not a smirk. His tone is soft.. almost shy, but confident in that way only Sieun could be. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t close the distance. Just waits. You try to find something clever to say, something to cut the tension with a laugh. But nothing comes. Your mouth is dry. Your heart is anything but quiet now.

“…You’re serious?” you whisper, voice barely above the wind.

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

God, why does his voice have to be that low? That steady?

You take a slow breath and close the space between you, barely tilting your head. It’s hesitant, like you’re giving him one last chance to say he was joking. But he wasn't. His eyes flutter shut right before your lips meet, and the moment they do, it’s...Soft.

Softer than you expected from someone like him.

His lips are still a little cold, a little dry but the way he kisses you is warm. Tentative, but not shy. Gentle, but not weak. His hand lifts, almost out of instinct, fingers brushing your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

You lean in more, and he responds just a little by tilting his head, letting the kiss deepen in the most natural way. No rush. Just the slow, steady realization that this is real.

When you finally part, it’s only by a breath.

You stay close, your forehead brushing his, your lips tingling.

Sieun doesn’t move for a moment. Just exhales. His breath hits your cheek, warm despite the cold.

“…Tastes like strawberry,” he mumbles, eyes still half-lidded.

You blink. Then laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “Of course that’s your first comment.”

He shrugs lazily, lips curling at the edges. “You picked the flavor.”

Ohyul ☆ shirt

~lngshot

~400 words

As you stepped out of the bathroom, towel still in hand, you spotted your roommate Ohyul pacing around the small dorm room, rummaging through drawers and the laundry basket with a furrowed brow. He looked genuinely worried, his dark hair slightly messy from running his fingers through it.

“Hey, Ohyul… what’s wrong?” you asked, walking closer.

“My favorite t-shirt,” he muttered quickly, still half-distracted. “The black one that looks kinda like—” He finally glanced up at you and froze mid-sentence, eyes widening.

You were wearing it.

The oversized shirt hung loosely on your frame, the hem brushing softly against your mid-thighs. You weren’t wearing anything underneath except your usual comfy shorts (which were hidden), but from his angle, it looked like the shirt was the only thing covering you.

“Oh… shit,” you whispered, realization hitting you like a truck. “I’m so sorry! I must’ve mixed it up with mine—they look so similar in the dark. I grabbed it without checking and just threw it on after my shower. I didn’t mean to—”

You started rambling, cheeks heating up in embarrassment, but Ohyul wasn’t really listening anymore.

His gaze had dropped to the way the soft fabric draped over your body, stopping teasingly at your thighs. It looked… good on you. Too good. The collar was a little loose, slipping slightly off one shoulder, and the shirt somehow made your legs look even longer. He swallowed hard, a quiet heat creeping up his neck.

You’re so beautiful, he thought, unable to stop staring for a second longer than he should. It fits you perfectly. Cute. Way too cute.

He quickly forced his eyes down before they could linger on your chest, cursing himself internally. She’s your friend. Your roommate. Don’t be weird.

You noticed his silence and tilted your head, a little concerned. A faint blush was already coloring your cheeks. “Ohyul…? Are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of it, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. When he looked back up, his expression had softened into something gentler, almost fond.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice a little lower than usual. “And don’t worry about the shirt. Keep it on. It looks… nice on you.”

The words slipped out before he could filter them properly. He immediately looked away, pretending to search for something else on his desk, but the tips of his ears had turned noticeably pink.

You stood there, heart beating a little faster, not quite sure what to say next.

❝Misunderstandings❞ – Eom Seonghyeon

-Cortis

~4.7k words Cortis masterlist | kpop masterlist

You stood frozen in front of Seonghyeon’s desk, the small folded letter trembling slightly between your fingers. Inside was a quick sketch of him and a short, clumsy birthday note you’d rewritten four times.

You’d spent the whole lunch break psyching yourself up to leave it on his desk and disappear before anyone saw. But now that you were actually here, every worst-case scenario was screaming in your head. What if he thinks it’s weird? What if he laughs?

You slapped your own cheek once muttering “just do it, coward,” and dropped the letter onto his bag. Then you turned to bolt.

“So you’re the one”

The low voice came from directly behind you.

You whipped around so fast your backpack strap caught on the desk corner. Seonghyeon was standing in the doorway with arms crossed.Your mouth opened but nothing came out.

“H-huh? Seonghyeon?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“Why do you look so shocked? Caught red-handed?”

“I was just—”

“Leaving another creepy little gift?” he finished for you, voice flat and cold.

The word creepy hit like a slap.

“No! That’s not—!” You waved your hands frantically. “It’s not like that!”

He stepped forward, gaze dropping to the folded paper now sitting obviously on top of his bag as proof.

“I get that we have fans,” he said slowly, each word deliberate, “but there’s a line. And some people like you keep crossing it.”

Your stomach plummeted.

He thought you were… one of those fans. The ones who left strange packages in his locker and followed him to the bathroom hallway. Right now, from his point of view, you looked exactly like them: alone in an empty classroom, hovering over his stuff, caught in the act.

“I didn’t expect it to be you of all people,” he added quietly.

The disappointment in his voice hurt worse than the accusation.

“Wait, you’ve got it completely wrong,” you managed, voice cracking.

“It’s not… I’m not… like them.I swear...”

“Yeah, sure. I believe you.”

Seonghyeon’s voice was flat, laced with sarcasm. He brushed past you without another glance. His shoulder barely grazing yours, but it felt like a shove.

Your carefully placed letter slipped from the edge of his bag as he yanked it up. It fluttered to the floor. He didn't even look down. Just stepped right over it, the sole of his sneaker pressing a faint gray. smudge across the folded edge before he walked out.

The door swung shut with a soft, final click.

You stared at the spot where he’d disappeared, chest tight, ears ringing with the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall. You’d only wanted to make him smile. A tiny, stupid birthday gesture from someone who’d never asked for anything in return. And now he thought you were… what? A stalker? A weirdo?

Your knees gave out slowly. You sank to the floor beside his desk, back against the cold metal leg, and reached for the letter. The paper was wrinkled now, his footprint stark against the white. That’s when the tears came.

He hates me.

The thought looped in your mind.

~~~~~

A few days dragged by in painfully slow.

You avoided Seonghyeon: Different routes to class, Head down in the hallways, Eating lunch in the basketball court instead of the cafeteria. It wasn’t hard...he barely showed up anyway. His “cortis schedule” kept him out most days. But on the rare days he did appear, it was torture.

You felt his eyes on you the moment you stepped into class late one morning like you did something wrong. In the lunch line another day, you caught him staring again, jaw tight, before he turned away like you didn’t exist.

You told yourself it was better this way.Better he think you were avoiding him than think you were stalking him again.

Then came the small school sports day.

You’d volunteered for logistics—running around replacing water bottles, folding towels, hauling equipment back to the storage rooms. You didn’t mind. Sports had never been your thing and you’d much rather stay on the sidelines.

Seonghyeon, surprisingly, was there. You hadn’t expected him but he was on the field for a few games. You stole one glance during his match then forced yourself back to work. Later that afternoon, one of your classmates shoved a large cardboard box of refreshments into your arms.

“Take this to the breakroom on the first floor,” she said, already turning away. “The players need them after the next round.”

The box was heavier than it looked but you managed. You climbed the stairs, arms burning, and reached the door. No answer when you knocked. Games were still going on so you figured the room was empty. You pushed the door open with your shoulder and stepped inside.

You shuffled forward, box blocking most of your view, and set it down on the nearest chair with a soft thud. Then you turned and your heart stopped as

Seonghyeon was inside.

Shirt halfway off, sweaty torso bare and track pants slung low on his hips. He was in the middle of changing out of his game jersey into something drier.

For one frozen second, neither of you moved. His eyes locked on yours and his expression changed from shock to angry.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You stumbled back so fast your leg almost hit another box.

“I—I was told to bring the refreshments to the break room—I knocked—”

“This isn’t the break room,” he snapped, yanking his shirt down to cover himself. “It’s the changing room for the athletes. The sign’s right there.”

You looked. The small plastic plaque on the door read: TEMPORARY ATHLETE CHANGING – MALE PLAYERS ONLY.

Your heart dropped.

“Get out.”

His voice cracked a little. He stepped forward, not aggressively, but enough to make you flinch.

“I didn’t see anything...I swear—”

Your words died in your throat as voices echoed down the hallway. Multiple Guys laughing, sneakers squeaking, someone yelling about who won the last relay.

“Shit,” you whispered, eyes wide. “Did the games end already?”

Seonghyeon’s face went from furious to alarmed in half a second. He glanced toward the still ajar door and then back at you.

The footsteps were getting louder.

If they walked in and saw you here alone, in the athletes’ changing room, with him half-dressed it wouldn’t just be rumors. It would be a full-blown scandal. Your name. His name. You couldn't imagine what would happen to cortis then. You spun in a frantic circle, searching for anywhere to disappear.

Locker? Too small.

Under the bench? Too obvious.

Then your eyes landed on the open window. A narrow concrete ledge ran along the exterior wall, maybe thirty centimeters wide. Just enough to stand on.

You bolted for it.

Seonghyeon’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to hide!” you hissed over your shoulder, already swinging one leg over the sill. “If they see me in here with you, its gonna be bad”

“Are you insane?” He lunged forward, hand outstretched like he might grab you back inside but you didn't wait. You ducked under the frame, toes finding the ledge, fingers gripping the brick above the window so hard your knuckles bleached white. Below you: grass, a low hedge, nothing soft if you fell.

Seonghyeon ducked his head out after you, face inches from yours now. His expression was a chaotic mix of panic, disbelief, and something almost like worry.

“What the heck?” he breathed, voice cracking. “You’re gonna fall, idiot..get back in!”

“I can’t!” you whisper-shouted, heart slamming against your ribs. “They can't see me”

The door banged fully open behind him.

“Hey, Seonghyeon! You alive in here or what?”

Seonghyeon froze for a split second then snapped into motion. He yanked the thin curtain across the window, blocking you from view, and spun back toward the room.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, voice forced-casual, a little too loud. “Just changing”

You pressed yourself flat against the wall, cheek scraping the rough brick, breath shallow and ragged. The ledge felt even smaller now that you were actually on it. One foot slipped an inch and your stomach lurched.

Inside, the guys were talking over each other: joking about the score, complaining about blisters, someone rummaging through a bag. Then one of them called out impatiently.

“We should head back. Next round’s starting soon”

A chorus of agreement rippled through the group. Someone kicked an empty water bottle across the floor.

Then another voice, closer to the door:

“Yo, Seonghyeon, you coming or what?”

Seonghyeon hesitated a bit before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be right behind you guys. Go ahead.”

“Okay, don’t take forever, man.”

The door clicked shut behind the last of the guys, their voices fading down the hallway like distant thunder.

“Hey…” You didn’t dare move yet.

Seonghyeon’s voice came from inside the room.

Your fingers ached from gripping the brick, legs trembling from the strain of balancing on that stupid narrow ledge. Slowly, you turned your head. Seonghyeon had poked his head outside the open window, curtain half-pushed aside. He wasn’t glaring anymore..just worried.

“Get in,” he said quietly and extended his hand.

You stared at it for a second before you reached out. Your fingers slid into his. Calloused from whatever sports he played. You pushed off the ledge with everything you had left, trying to swing your leg back over the sill. Halfway through your shoe slipped. A sharp gasp tore out of you as gravity yanked.

But Seonghyeon was faster. His other hand shot out, clamped around your forearm like iron, and he pulled you in hard.

You came flying back through the window in a tangle of limbs. Your body collided with his chest; he staggered backward two steps, lost his balance, and both of you went down. He hit the floor first and then you landed half on top of him, knees straddling his hips, hands braced on either side of his shoulders.

A stunned “Oof—” escaped him.

You froze as your faces were inches apart. Neither of you moved for a few seconds. Just the sound of both of you breathing too loud in the quiet changing room.

Your arms shook from holding yourself up. Seonghyeon scanned your face...his eyes flicked down to your mouth for half a second then snapped back up, like he’d caught himself.

“Get off,” he muttered, voice low and strained.

The words jolted you like cold water. You scrambled backward so fast your knee scraped the floor. Hands shaking, you pushed yourself upright, putting space between you.

“Sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. Then, softer “And… thank you”

Seonghyeon stood slowly behind you. He didn’t look at you right away as he just turned his head to the side, ears faintly red.

“Seonghyeon…”

He glanced over “Make it quick.”

The sharpness stung, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“Look… I’m genuinely sorry. I had no idea this was the changing room. And that day i wasn’t trying to be creepy. I swear. I just… I thought it would make you smile”

He didn’t respond. Just a low, skeptical hum in the back of his throat. Your hand moved on autopilot. You reached into the pocket of your shirt where the folded letter was. You’d kept it there, crumpled and worn at the edges, because some tiny, stupid part of you still hoped he’d see it.

You pulled it out.

The paper was soft now, creased from being carried everywhere. The faint smudge of his old shoeprint still marked one corner like a scar. Seonghyeon’s eyes flicked to it. His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. You stepped forward and set the letter gently on the edge of the table beside him. Not shoving it at him. Just… placing it there.

You couldn’t bear the silence any longer so you make up your mind to leave.

“I’ll go,” you said quietly, already turning toward the back exit. “You don’t have to say anything.”

~~~~~

"Go get some groceries," your mom said, not even looking up from the kitchen counter.

You let out a dramatic groan and flopped backward onto the couch like you'd been shot. "Whyyy do I have to go so late? It's literally the middle of my episode!"

"Because dinner's in thirty minutes and I'm out of sauce. Go, unless you want to starve tonight," she shot back, completely unfazed by your theatrics.

You huffed, arms crossed for a solid five seconds before giving in. With an exaggerated sigh, you grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.

"Fine. I'll be back soon," you muttered, snatching the crumpled list from her hand and shuffling toward the door in your ratty old night shorts and the oversized tshirt that had seen better days. It was past 9 p.m.—who was going to care what you looked like? The streets would be empty, the store nearly deserted.

The night air was cool as you walked the short distance to the 24-hour convenience store down the block. The bell jingled softly when you pushed the door open. The owner, Mr. Kim, glanced up from his phone behind the counter and gave you the usual small nod of recognition. You returned it half-heartedly and headed straight for the aisles.

You moved quickly: soy sauce, green onions, a pack of tofu, some ramyeon your mom probably forgot she needed. Then you spotted the snack aisle and paused. Okay, maybe you deserved compensation for this forced errand. Your hand reached for your favorite spicy chips—

"Hyung, you want these crackers?" a loud voice cut through the quiet store.

Before you could grab the bag, a hand swooped in and snatched it right out from under your fingers.

"Hey, I was gonna—" Your protest died in your throat.

Because the guy holding your chips was Seonghyeon.You both stood there, the chip bag dangling awkwardly between you both.

The other two guys kept talking behind him, oblivious, rummaging through the drink cooler. Seonghyeon didn’t say anything right away. Just stared, like his brain was still processing that it was you.

You felt the heat crawl up your neck instantly because of course. Of course this was how you’d see him again: right after you’d bolted from the changing room like a criminal, leaving that crumpled letter on the table without waiting for his reaction.

“Umm… hi,” you managed, voice small.

His gaze dropped taking in the whole picture: your hair a tangled mess from hours on the couch, the faded oversized blue T-shirt that swallowed your frame, and the tiny Hello Kitty sleep shorts that suddenly felt way too short. You instinctively tugged the hem of your shorts down, trying to shrink, to disappear into the aisle.

Seonghyeon noticed. His eyes flicked away fast, cheeks tinting the faintest pink. Before you could grab the chips and flee, two more figures rounded the corner.

“What’s taking so longgg?”

Keonho whined, beanie pulled low, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. He stopped short when he saw you, brows shooting up. “Oh”

“Those chips look good,” Juhoon cut in, already snatching the bag right out of Seonghyeon’s loose grip with a grin. “Yo, can we—”

He froze mid-sentence when he looked at you. You recognized him instantly—Juhoon. Your bias. The one whose fancams you’d rewatched until 3 a.m. more times than you’d ever admit.

And here he was: staring at you in your rattiest sleep clothes, hair looking like a bird’s nest, holding a basket of soy sauce like some gremlin. Panic surged. You took a tiny step back right into the shelf. A pack of gum clattered to the floor.

Juhoon’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You know her?”

Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

“Yeah… yeah, she’s my classmate. Wasn’t expecting to run into her here.”

Juhoon was still looking at you, head tilted, like he was trying to place you from somewhere.

“Wait… are you the one who...” He cut himself off, glancing at Seonghyeon with sudden understanding. “Ohhh.”

Seonghyeon shot him a warning look to not say anything. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Keonho, oblivious as ever, blinked wide-eyed and blurted it out anyway.

“Wait you’re the weird fan?!?”

The words landed like a slap in the quiet store. Your stomach plummeted. He told them? The whole group knew?

The people you’d quietly admired from afar now thought you were some creepy stalker who’d been leaving letters? You felt your face drain of color. Your hands went cold around the soy sauce bottle.

Juhoon’s expression shifted a little and that hit you harder than any accusation ever could. Your bias looking at you like you might be the problem.

“I…” Your voice cracked “I gotta go.”

You set the basket down on the nearest shelf with a soft clatter. The soy sauce, green onions, tofu, all abandoned and turned toward the exit.

“Wait—” Seonghyeon’s voice cut through but you didn’t stop. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed through.

Behind you, inside the store:

Keonho’s voice dropped, small and guilty.

“…Did I say something wrong?”

Seonghyeon exhaled through his nose “Yeah. You did”

“Ah… shit.” Keonho rubbed the back of his neck, beanie slipping sideways. “Sorry...

I just thought–”

“Idiot,” Juhoon muttered under his breath, but there was no real heat in it. He glanced toward the door you’d just disappeared through, then back at Seonghyeon. “So… she wasn’t the one?”

Seonghyeon stared at the floor for a second.

“No. I think I misunderstood. Badly”

Juhoon studied him then gave a small, knowing nod.

“Say… why don’t you go after her? Talk it out properly. We’ll buy the stuff she left behind, grab our snacks, and meet you guys.”

Seonghyeon opened his mouth. “But..”

Juhoon cut him off with a gentle shove between the shoulder blades.

“just go”

Seonghyeon hesitated. His eyes flicking to the door, then back to his friends then he jogged out after you.

.

.

You hadn’t run far. Just a few shaky steps past the convenience store’s glow, you pressed your back against the rough brick wall near the entrance of a narrow alley.

Soon the tears came without warning. They slipped down your cheeks, dripped off your chin, soaked into your tshirt. You didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point?

They thought you were the “weird fan.”

The people who unknowingly gave you motivation, who made school bearable just by existing, now hated you. Or at least that’s what the voice in your head screamed. You hugged yourself tighter, arms wrapped around yourself. The cold bit at your bare legs, but you barely felt it over the ache everywhere else.

Then...soft rustle of fabric.

Something warm and heavy draped across your shoulders. You flinched, startled, and looked up through blurry lashes.

Seonghyeon stood there, closer than you’d realized. He’d taken off his jacket without a word and settled it around you, tugging the collar up gently so it covered the back of your neck.

The jacket was still warm from his body heat. You stared at him, stunned. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, hands shoved into his pockets now that the jacket was off him, shoulders slightly hunched against the night air in only his T-shirt.

“I didn’t tell them you were some weird fan,” he said quietly, voice low enough that it felt like the words were only for you. “Keonho’s an idiot who speaks before he thinks. He heard me mention the letter once, when I was still freaking out and filled in the blanks wrong. I never said you were creepy. I never said anything like that.”

You swallowed, throat raw.

“Juhoon looked at me like…”

“Like he was confused,” Seonghyeon finished gently. “Not disgusted. He was just trying to piece it together. That’s all.”

Fresh tears welled up again. You pressed your lips together hard.

“Wait… why are you crying again?”

Seonghyeon’s voice cracked with sudden panic. He took half a step closer, hands hovering awkwardly like he didn’t know whether to touch you or give you space.

You tried to answer “Cuz…” but the word dissolved into a choked sob. It wasn’t sadness this time. It was relief crashing over you like a wave.He and the rest of the group didn’t hate you.

“Hey… hey, breathe.”

Seonghyeon’s tone softened. A few passersby slowed their steps, glancing over with that mix of curiosity and concern. One older woman paused outright, frowning at him like he might be the reason. He noticed immediately.

His eyes darted around and then he made a small, decisive movement. Without another word, he reached out, fingers curling lightly around your wrist, and tugged you forward into his chest.

Your face pressed against the soft cotton of his T-shirt His arms came around you slowly.

“Stop now… please,” he murmured against the top of your head. He didn’t rush you or pull away though.

Eventually your breathing evened out. Seonghyeon didn’t let go right away. He waited until your grip on his shirt loosened. Only then did he ease back just enough to look down at you.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

You nodded against his chest once, small and shaky.

“…Yeah.”

He exhaled and let his arms drop slowly, though one hand stayed on your shoulder like he wasn’t ready to lose contact entirely.

“Sorry about the hug,” he said, voice a little rough. “People were staring. Didn’t want them thinking I was… you know. Making it worse.”

You managed a tiny laugh. “It’s okay. It… helped.”

You hadn’t even noticed them approaching until Juhoon’s voice cut through the quiet night.

“You made her cry?”

Seonghyeon stiffened instantly, arms still loosely around you.

“What—no,” he said quickly, almost defensive. He turned his head just enough to see Juhoon standing there holding your grocery bag, Keonho beside him juggling their own snacks and drinks. Both looked equal parts amused and concerned.

“Didn’t expect this from you, man,” Keonho added, eyebrows raised high under his crooked beanie.

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes at Keonho’s comment. Then he stepped back from you a fraction, giving you some space. You reached up and shrugged his jacket off quickly, holding it out to him with shaky fingers.

“Thanks for this, but… you should probably take it back.”

He didn’t move to grab it. Instead he reached forward, gently tugged the fabric from your hands, and draped it right back over your shoulders.

“Just give it to me tomorrow in class,” he said quietly. His voice was low, almost stubborn. “It’s cold. Keep it.”

Before you could protest, Juhoon stepped closer, holding out your grocery bag with a small smile.

“Here,” he said simply, passing it to you.

Your fingers brushed his as you took it.

“Oh—you didn’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” Juhoon cut in gently, smile widening just a little. “Least we could do after Seonghyeon made you cry”

The smile hit you like a soft punch. A tiny, involuntary word slipped out under your breath.

“Cute…”

Juhoon’s eyebrow lifted. “Huh?”

Keonho, who had clearly heard every syllable, repeated what you said.

“She called you cute, Juhoon hyung.”

Seonghyeon’s expression flattened instantly. He looked away toward the streetlamp, suddenly very interested in the flickering light. Juhoon tilted his head at you, curious.

“Oh? Me? Isn’t Seonghyeon your favorite?”

Your eyes darted to Seonghyeon then back to Juhoon. Heat flooded your face all over again.

“Wow,” Seonghyeon muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear it.

Juhoon laughed softly and reached out to pat the top of your head once.

“Anyway, I’m glad,” he said“You’re nice”

Juhoon gave you one last small grin, then turned to Seonghyeon.

“We’ll wait for you at the park. You can talk more but don't take that long”

Seonghyeon shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Yeah, yeah .”

The two of them started walking away—Keonho already whispering something that made Juhoon laugh again. Leaving you and Seonghyeon alone again.

.

.

“So…” you started, the word hanging awkwardly in the cool night air.

Seonghyeon was still looking at you. Then his eyes dipped, to your mouth. He froze. A frustrated sigh escaped him. Before you could process it, his hand came up and smacked his own forehead.

You startled, jumping a little. “Wha—”

“Listen,” he said quickly, cutting off whatever excuse he was about to make. His hands shot out, catching your shoulders.

“The reason I was so disappointed that day when I saw you standing over my bag…” He swallowed once. His thumbs brushed the fabric of his own jacket still draped over you. “It was because… I admired you. From afar. For a while.”

The confession landed like a bomb. Your mouth parted, but nothing came out. He kept going, words tumbling now like he’d held them back too long.

“So when I thought you were the one leaving weird notes, planting things… it felt like a betrayal. Like the one person I actually admired in class was just another fan playing games. That’s why I was rude” He paused before speaking again “I’m sorry for misunderstanding ”

Seonghyeon dropped his gaze to the cracked sidewalk between your shoes, shoulders tense.

“There’s no need to apologize,” you said softly. “You’re… you’re an idol. I know how much you guys deal with. The paranoia and the way people cross lines without even realizing. If I were in your place, I probably would’ve reacted the same. Or worse.”

You hesitated, then let the rest slip out.

“…And maybe I sort of like you more than Juhoon anyway.”

Seonghyeon’s head snapped up at that.

“More than Juhoon,” he repeated under his breath, testing the words.

You ducked your head, cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean—”

“No. Don’t take it back now”

He took one small step close enough that the toes of his sneakers almost touched yours.You didn’t pull away. His thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone once, feather-soft, wiping away the last drying tear track you hadn’t noticed.

Before either of you could say another word there was a loud thud from down the street. You both jumped, heads whipping toward the sound. Keonho was sprawled flat on the pavement about twenty meters away. A single empty soda can rolled lazily away from his foot.

“You idiot,” Juhoon’s voice came from behind a parked car. He stepped out, arms crossed, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

“THERE WAS A BUG!” Keonho yelled back, scrambling to his knees and pointing accusingly. “A HUGE ONE! It flew right at my face!”

Juhoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “You ruined their moment. Again.”

Keonho finally got to his feet, brushing dirt off his jeans, guilt flashing across his face when he saw your expressions.

“Uh… sorry?” he offered weakly.

Seonghyeon’s jaw clenched. He took one threatening step forward.

“Oh, I’m so gonna kill you guys—”

Before he could finish the threat, you moved. Without thinking you rose on your tiptoes, cupped his cheek gently with one hand, and pressed a soft, deliberate peck to his other cheek.

Seonghyeon’s rant died mid-sentence. His eyes widened comically, ears turning a violent shade of red that crept down his neck. He looked like someone had just rebooted his brain. You pulled back, smiling small and shy.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, thumb brushing his jaw once before dropping your hand.

For a minute he just stared at you.

“Martin’s gonna love this…” Juhoon said, already pulling out his phone like he was about to record evidence.

“How cute,” Keonho cooed, clasping his hands together dramatically. “First one to get a girlfriend among us”

“James hyung is gonna be so jealous,” Juhoon added, grinning wickedly.

“can you both go?!–” Seonghyeon whipped around, voice cracking on the second syllable. His face was now fully scarlet. He looked ready to combust. You pressed your hand over your mouth, but the giggles kept escaping.

A/n's note: this turned out cuter than i expected