@ delulu Suzune

Starring: Seonghyeon × Reader

Genre: Fluff • Hotel Romance • Late-Night Comfort

..................................................................................

The hotel hallway was quiet.

Too quiet.

Reader stood outside Room 406 with her keycard in one hand and a paper bag of convenience-store snacks in the other.

The entire day had been exhausting. Between schedules, interviews, and endless travel, all she wanted was a shower and sleep.

The door next to hers opened.

Room 407.

And out stepped Seonghyeon.

His hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it all evening. He was wearing an oversized hoodie and looked far less polished than he did on stage.

For a second, both of them froze.

Then he looked down at the paper bag.

"Snacks?"

Reader looked down too.

"...Maybe."

Seonghyeon gasped dramatically.

"You went to the convenience store without me?"

"Without you?" she laughed. "Since when are convenience store trips a team activity?"

"Since right now."

His expression was so serious that she almost believed him.

Almost.

"You're ridiculous."

"I get told that a lot."

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

Reader hated how cute that smile was.

Absolutely hated it.

An hour later, there was a knock on her hotel room door.

When she opened it, nobody was there.

Except for a can of strawberry milk sitting on the floor.

Reader immediately knew who it was.

She picked up the drink and opened her door wider.

"Seonghyeon."

Silence.

Then a muffled voice came from the neighboring room.

"You can't prove it was me."

Reader laughed.

The wall between their rooms was surprisingly thin.

"Thank you."

A pause.

Then:

"You're welcome."

It became a routine.

Every night after schedules ended, they'd return to their rooms and somehow end up talking through the wall.

It started with random things.

Favorite snacks.

Worst fashion choices.

Embarrassing childhood stories.

The conversations always stretched longer than they intended.

One night, Reader was sitting on the floor beside her bed when a soft knock echoed through the wall.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Their weird little signal.

She smiled.

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

"Obviously."

"Good."

A pause.

Then:

"I had a bad day."

The confession was quiet.

Unexpected.

Reader sat up straighter.

"What happened?"

For a few moments there was only silence.

Then Seonghyeon spoke.

"Tired."

His voice was softer than usual.

"Just... tired."

Reader understood immediately.

Some days were like that.

Not terrible.

Not dramatic.

Just exhausting.

The kind of exhaustion that settled in your chest.

"You know," she said, leaning against the wall, "I think you're allowed to be tired."

A laugh came from the other side.

"I know."

"No. Really."

She traced a finger along the wallpaper.

"You don't have to be perfect all the time."

Silence.

Then:

"...You're good at this."

"At what?"

"Making me feel better."

Reader felt warmth creep into her cheeks.

Good thing he couldn't see her.

The next evening, there was another knock at her door.

This time Seonghyeon was actually standing there.

Holding two cups of instant ramen.

His smile was sheepish.

"I accidentally made two."

Reader raised an eyebrow.

"You accidentally made two?"

"Yes."

"You intentionally made two."

"...Maybe."

She laughed and stepped aside.

"Come in."

For the next hour they sat on the floor eating ramen and talking about absolutely nothing.

The conversation jumped from music to movies to whether cereal counted as soup.

Neither of them won that argument.

Eventually, Reader noticed Seonghyeon staring at her.

Not saying anything.

Just looking.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He blinked.

Then smiled.

"Nothing."

"That's suspicious."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

Seonghyeon laughed.

The sound filled the room.

Warm.

Comfortable.

Home-like.

The kind of laugh that made Reader want to hear it again.

And again.

And again.

The last night of the trip arrived far too quickly.

The next morning everyone would leave for different schedules.

Different cities.

Different flights.

Reader hated how disappointed she felt about it.

A knock came through the wall.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

She smiled automatically.

"What?"

"Open your door."

Reader frowned.

Then stood and opened it.

At the exact same moment, Room 407 opened too.

Seonghyeon stepped into the hallway.

For a second neither of them spoke.

The hallway lights glowed softly overhead.

Everything felt strangely still.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

A smile appeared on his face.

The genuine kind.

The kind reserved for very few people.

"I'm going to miss this."

Reader's heart skipped.

"The wall conversations?"

"Those too."

Too.

The single word hung between them.

Reader felt her face warming.

"Oh."

Elegant.

Very elegant.

Seonghyeon laughed.

Then took a small step closer.

Not enough to be bold.

Just enough to be honest.

"When we get back," he said quietly, "let's not wait for hotel walls."

Reader looked at him.

At his nervous smile.

At the hope in his eyes.

And smiled back.

"Okay."

The grin that spread across Seonghyeon's face was so bright it could've powered the entire hotel.

And somehow—

That felt even better than the strawberry milk. 🩷✨

The End 🌙🏨💕

Warning: angst , emotional

Starring: OT5 cortis

....…..............................…........................................

At first, it was just music.

That’s all it was ever supposed to be.

A melody stitched together in a studio too quiet for how loudly it demanded feeling. Lyrics written under soft lamp light at 2 a.m., where exhaustion was politely renamed “dedication” because the industry prefers softer words for harder things.

CORTIS didn’t question it then.

Because idols don’t question songs.

They survive them.

The comeback track was called something bright.

Something that sounded like youth preserved in glass—beautiful, untouchable, already slightly out of reach.

The company called it “their most authentic era yet.”

Fans called it “healing.”

And at first, James, Juhoon, Seonghyeon, Keonho, and Martin believed it too.

Until they started listening too closely.

Until lyrics stopped behaving like fiction.

And started sounding like things they never said out loud.

There was a line James always delivered like it belonged to him.

“If I disappear in the light, will anyone notice I was ever here?”

He sang it perfectly every time.

Too perfectly.

Like repetition could turn fear into performance.

After one recording session, Juhoon watched him quietly and said,

“You always smile on that line.”

James blinked once.

“I have to,” he answered.

And didn’t explain why.

Keonho was the first to stop enjoying the chorus.

Not because he disliked it.

Because fans screamed the loudest during the saddest parts.

During rehearsals, he moved cleanly—precise, controlled, center-calculated—but something in his expression started arriving a half-second too late, like his body was faster than whatever was supposed to feel it.

Once, a staff member clapped and said,

“That pain looks real.”

Keonho nodded automatically.

But the word real didn’t sit right after that.

Seonghyeon noticed the lyrics first.

Maknaes notice things before they’re officially noticed.

In the bridge, there was a line:

“Even if I smile, I’m still asking for help.”

He read it once in the studio.

Then again.

Then stopped reading it out loud entirely.

That night, in the dorm hallway, he sat with his back against the wall and whispered to Martin,

“Hyung… this song feels sad.”

Martin looked up from his phone slowly.

“It’s not sad,” he said gently. “It’s just… emotional.”

Seonghyeon shook his head.

“No,” he said quietly. “It feels like it’s trying not to be.”

Martin didn’t answer right away.

Because he understood exactly what that meant.

And didn’t know how to turn it into something lighter.

Juhoon stopped speaking in rehearsal unless necessary.

Not out of defiance.

Out of depletion.

Every correction, every retake, every “again” stacked quietly inside him until words started feeling like something he couldn’t afford to waste.

He would mouth lyrics during practice, but his voice began arriving thinner each time, like it was learning how to leave before he was ready.

A vocal coach told him,

“More emotion.”

Juhoon nodded.

And wondered how much emotion was left that didn’t already hurt.

James started hearing the song when it wasn’t playing.

In elevators. In mirrors. In the seconds before sleep when his thoughts refused to soften.

Always the same line.

“If I disappear in the light…”

He began to understand something slowly.

They hadn’t written a song about hope.

They had written a song about being watched while breaking.

And then polished it until it was safe enough to cheer for.

The comeback stage arrived like it always did.

Lights. Noise. Breaths aligned through repetition, not choice.

From the outside: perfect.

From the inside: familiar enough to feel strange.

James stood at center for a moment before the chorus and thought, briefly, how quickly “dream” becomes “routine.”

Martin caught his eye mid-transition and gave a small nod.

Not encouragement.

Just acknowledgment that they were both still there.

For now.

During the final chorus, Seonghyeon’s voice cracked.

Barely.

Almost nothing.

But he felt it like something inside him stepping out of sync with the rest of him.

The crowd didn’t notice.

The cameras didn’t stop.

But Juhoon did—just a fraction of a glance toward him, like he heard something fall that no one else could hear.

Backstage, the staff said, “Great work.”

The manager said, “This era will change everything for you.”

No one asked how they felt.

Because feelings weren’t part of the schedule.

Only results were.

That night, in the dorm, Martin played the track again.

Low volume.

Not for promotion. Not for rehearsal.

Just because silence felt heavier than sound.

They all sat scattered around the room—James leaning back against the sofa with his head tilted slightly, Juhoon sitting still like movement had become optional, Keonho staring at the floor without really seeing it, Seonghyeon curled inward like he was trying to take up less space, Martin holding the phone like it weighed more than it should.

The song filled the room gently.

Too gently for how much it hurt.

James finally spoke.

“Do you think people hear it?”

No one asked what it meant.

Martin answered after a pause.

“I think they hear it,” he said softly.

Another silence followed.

Then Seonghyeon added, quieter:

“I don’t think they know it’s real.”

And for once, no one corrected him.

Because correcting it would mean pretending they didn’t recognize it too.

And outside their window, the world kept moving forward—

while CORTIS sat still in the aftermath of a song that sounded less like a comeback…

Warning: chaos , crack , not proofread at all

Starring: Ot5 cortis x reader platonic

............…................................................................

It started with a blink.

The WiFi icon.

Gone.

Not weak. Not buffering.

Just… dead.

Silence fell across the dorm like someone had unplugged reality itself.

You stared at your phone.

“No,” you whispered.

Martin looked up from the couch. “It’s just loading, right?”

Keonho already stood up. “I’ll fix it.”

That was mistake number one.

Because Keonho saying “I’ll fix it” always meant something was about to become a national incident.

Within thirty seconds, the dorm split into factions.

Seonghyeon sat cross-legged on the floor, calmly opening notes.

“If WiFi is gone,” he said, “then we return to our natural human state.”

“No one asked for a philosophical reboot,” you said.

“I did,” Juhoon replied instantly, like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Martin was already spiraling.

“I have rehearsals saved on cloud,” he said, refreshing his phone aggressively. “Why is it not loading? Why is life like this?”

“It’s 4 bars of emotional damage,” James muttered, staring at the router like it owed him money.

Keonho was under the table.

Literally.

Cables everywhere.

He had somehow acquired a screwdriver from nowhere like he was born for this moment.

“I think I found the issue,” he said.

“No you didn’t,” you replied immediately.

He ignored you.

That was mistake number two.

Meanwhile, Juhoon had opened a whiteboard.

No one knew where he got it.

He wrote:

“CAUSES OF INTERNET FAILURE”

Under it:

Government interference

Ghosts

Someone downloading too many “videos”

Martin pointed at the last one. “That’s literally you.”

Juhoon nodded. “Accurate.”

Seonghyeon was now on the balcony, staring into the sky.

“I miss 2016 WiFi,” he said quietly.

“You were nine,” James said.

“That was peak internet stability,” Seonghyeon replied.

No one argued.

Because somehow… it made sense.

Then came the emergency meeting.

OT6 gathered in the living room like a failed startup company.

Keonho stood in front.

“We have two options,” he said seriously.

“Call the company,” you said.

“Or,” he continued dramatically, “we fix it ourselves.”

Martin raised a hand slowly. “Third option: we move houses.”

Keonho ignored him.

He plugged something in.

Something clicked.

The router light turned red.

Then green.

Then started blinking like it was having an identity crisis.

Everyone leaned in.

Silence.

Hope.

Suspense.

Then—

WiFi: ❌

A collective pause.

Then Martin screamed.

“I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS!”

He threw himself onto the sofa like a tragic Shakespeare character.

James immediately said, “Bro it’s been 6 minutes.”

You took a deep breath.

“This is not normal behavior,” you said.

Seonghyeon nodded. “True. We are adapting to pre-digital evolution.”

“No,” you said. “We are just dramatic idiots.”

Keonho refused to accept defeat.

“I was this close,” he said, holding two unplugged cables like evidence in court.

Juhoon leaned over. “You made it worse.”

“I improved it emotionally,” Keonho replied.

That sentence should not have made sense.

But somehow… it did.

Then silence hit again.

No WiFi.

No hope.

Just six people and the uncomfortable realization that they actually had to talk to each other.

And that’s when it got dangerous.

Martin started singing randomly.

James started roasting everyone’s sleep schedule.

Seonghyeon started a debate on whether memes still exist offline.

Juhoon tried to rank “who would survive longest without internet” (he lost instantly).

And you?

You sat on the floor, watching it all unfold.

“This is what happens when society collapses,” you said.

Keonho pointed at you. “Don’t manifest that.”

“I’m not manifesting anything. I’m observing chaos scientifically.”

“That’s exactly what someone manifesting chaos would say,” James replied.

At some point, someone suggested “going outside.”

That idea was rejected immediately.

Outside required effort.

Instead, they formed a circle.

No WiFi.

No distraction.

Just OT6.

And slowly—very slowly—something shifted.

Martin stopped panicking.

James stopped roasting.

Juhoon stopped writing conspiracy theories.

Seonghyeon came back from the balcony.

Keonho finally sat down.

And it got quiet.

Too quiet.

Then Martin whispered:

“…we’re actually kind of boring without internet.”

Silence.

Then everyone laughed.

Like it hurt a little.

The WiFi came back at 2:47 AM.

No announcement.

No warning.

Just suddenly—life returned.

Phones exploded with notifications.

Everyone scrambled.

But for five seconds—

No one picked theirs up.

Because they were still laughing.

Then Keonho said softly:

“Should we break it again tomorrow?”

You stared at him.

“No.”

James nodded. “Absolutely not.”

Martin paused.

“…maybe once a week.”

And just like that—

OT6 survived another digital apocalypse.

Barely.

Starring: Idol bf eom seonghyeon x artist gf fem reader

..................................................................................

Seonghyeon never said your name out loud in interviews.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because every time he tried, it felt like giving something sacred away to the wrong crowd.

So instead, he did what he always did best.

He wrote.

You were an artist in your own right—paint-stained hands, half-finished canvases, lyrics scribbled on café receipts when inspiration hit too hard to ignore.

People online called you “Seonghyeon’s rumored muse.”

But they didn’t know the truth.

You weren’t a muse.

You were the reason he learned how to feel things properly.

It started with a song he didn’t show anyone.

A demo file titled: track_07_final_final_reallythisone.mp3

You found it by accident.

Or maybe he left it there on purpose.

When you pressed play, his voice wasn’t polished like stage Seonghyeon. It was softer. Bare. Almost like he was afraid of being heard.

And then the lyrics hit.

“She paints the sky when she can’t sleep,

turns midnight into something she can keep.

Her hands don’t tremble, but her heart does,

still she colors the world because it hurts less than love does.”

You stopped breathing.

Because that wasn’t fiction.

That was you.

When you confronted him later, he didn’t deny it.

He just leaned back in his chair, tired eyes softening like he’d been expecting this moment for a long time.

“I wasn’t trying to make it obvious,” Seonghyeon said quietly.

“You literally wrote my entire personality into a chorus.”

He smiled a little. “Yeah… that was kind of the problem.”

From then on, things changed—but not loudly.

No public declarations. No dramatic headlines.

Just small moments that felt louder than anything else.

Like him saving you a seat backstage without asking.

Like you noticing your favorite snacks appearing in his studio fridge.

Like him humming unfinished melodies when you were sketching beside him, as if your silence and his music were the same language.

The next song came months later.

This time, he showed it to you first.

No title. Just a voice memo.

And when it played, your chest tightened instantly.

Because it didn’t sound like admiration anymore.

It sounded like falling.

“If she ever leaves, I’ll rewrite the stars,

not to change fate—just to find where she are.

She says she’s just colors and noise and art,

but I’ve seen galaxies hiding in her heart.”

You looked at him when it ended.

“Seonghyeon…”

He didn’t look away.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love like this,” he said, almost laughing at himself. “It just… happened between verses.”

Later, fans would analyze every lyric.

They’d break it down frame by frame, line by line, trying to figure out who the “girl in the songs” was.

They’d never fully know.

Because the truth wasn’t in the lyrics.

It was in the way Seonghyeon looked at you when no one was watching.

Like you were the only thing in his world that didn’t require permission to exist.

One night, after a long recording session, you were sitting on the studio floor, leaning against the wall, half-asleep.

Seonghyeon was editing a track when he suddenly paused.

“You know what’s funny?” he said.

You hummed without opening your eyes.

“My best songs always sound like I’m writing about someone I can’t have.”

You finally looked at him.

“And?”

He turned his chair slightly toward you.

“And then I look up… and you’re right there.”

Silence.

Soft. Heavy. Warm.

The final chorus of the album was never officially explained.

But if you listened closely, really closely, you could hear it.

Not just his voice.

But the echo of a promise he never said out loud.

“She doesn’t need saving, she just needs staying.

So I stay.

And that sounds like love in every language I know.”

And somewhere between paint-stained hands and unfinished songs, between fame and silence, between what was said and what was felt—

Seonghyeon stopped writing about love.

Because he was finally living it.

......

Warning: angst ,ot5 cortis

..................…...…......…......................….....................

It wasn’t supposed to leave the room.

That was the first lie.

The second was that it was just rehearsal.

Because nothing about that day felt like rehearsal once the video surfaced—grainy, tilted, too close to be harmless. Someone had been laughing when they recorded it. That detail made it worse later. Like betrayal had a soundtrack.

At first, nobody even understood what they were looking at.

Five figures. Movement. Music faint under breath and footsteps. Sweat. Exhaustion. A run that should’ve been forgettable.

But the internet doesn’t forget anything it can destroy.

James was the first to get clipped into a frame.

Not because he did something wrong.

Because he did something worse.

He looked absent.

Like his body had stayed but the part that belonged to the group had already started leaving.

Juhoon missed a beat—tiny, human, recoverable.

Seonghyeon didn’t correct him immediately.

That delay became everything.

Because when he finally looked at Juhoon, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was controlled precision. The kind of look that doesn’t raise voices—it lowers confidence.

Juhoon recovered too fast after that. That was his mistake.

Keonho noticed both of them noticing each other and stepped in half a second too early, too sharp, forcing the formation back into place like structure could save something already leaking out from the edges.

Martin smiled.

Automatically.

Like his face had muscle memory for pretending.

Except—

in the leak—

his smile faltered.

Just once.

Just enough.

The internet paused on that frame like it had found oxygen.

And then everything exploded.

It didn’t trend as a clip.

It trended as a story people started writing without permission.

“James looks like he’s done.”

“Seonghyeon is controlling the group’s vibe.”

“Juhoon is the weak link.”

“Keonho is overcompensating.”

“Martin is faking it.”

And then the sentence that spread like infection:

“They don’t look like a team anymore.”

No one said “maybe.”

No one said “we don’t know.”

Certainty always spreads faster than truth.

The group chat died before it spoke.

Seen. Seen. Seen.

Typing indicators that appeared like ghosts and disappeared like guilt.

Keonho finally broke first:

did you see it

Martin replied immediately:

yeah

Juhoon followed after a delay that felt like hesitation in physical form:

it’s edited weird

Seonghyeon:

it isn’t

That message ended the conversation for a full minute.

Because Seonghyeon didn’t comfort people.

He analyzed them.

If even he wasn’t softening it, then there was nothing left to soften.

James didn’t reply.

He didn’t even show “typing.”

That absence became louder than everything else.

They met because silence in private starts to feel like guilt.

The practice room was too bright.

That was the first thing anyone noticed. Not each other. Not the manager. Not the tension.

The lights.

Too clean for something that felt so dirty now.

No one greeted anyone properly.

No one smiled.

Keonho stood near the mirror like he could disappear into his own reflection if he stayed still enough.

Juhoon adjusted his sleeves three times in under ten seconds.

Martin kept his eyes down like eye contact might turn into accusation.

Seonghyeon stood perfectly still.

James stood slightly apart from all of them.

Not physically far.

Emotionally unreachable.

The manager said something about focus, about rumors, about “not letting online noise affect real work.”

No one responded.

Because the noise was already inside the room.

And it had a name.

James spoke first.

Not loud.

Not emotional.

Worse.

Calm.

“Just say it.”

Keonho frowned.

“Say what?”

James tilted his head slightly.

Like he was tired of pretending this wasn’t obvious.

“What you’re all thinking when you look at me.”

Silence.

Juhoon opened his mouth, closed it again.

Martin looked at the floor harder.

Seonghyeon looked at James like he was trying to calculate something that didn’t have a formula.

So James did it for them.

“You think I’m the problem.”

That wasn’t anger.

That was resignation dressed as clarity.

Keonho immediately shook his head.

“No— that’s not— no one said that.”

James let out a small laugh.

It didn’t sound amused.

It sounded like something breaking without noise.

“You didn’t have to say it.”

That landed too cleanly.

Because it was true in the worst way.

No one had said it.

But everyone had thought it at least once during rehearsal.

That’s how groups rot. Not from one person. From shared silence.

Keonho snapped first.

Not yelling.

Worse.

Immediate honesty with no control.

“We’re all struggling, James. It’s not just you falling apart!”

That was supposed to help.

It didn’t.

Because James finally looked at him like he was seeing him clearly for the first time in a while.

“I never said I was the only one.”

Beat.

“I said I’m the one you all look at when something goes wrong.”

Martin flinched.

Because he knew exactly what James meant.

Juhoon whispered:

“That’s not fair…”

James nodded slowly.

“No.”

Pause.

“It isn’t.”

And then—

“But it still happens.”

No argument followed that.

Because no one could deny it without lying.

Seonghyeon finally stepped in.

“We’re not communicating properly.”

No emotion.

Just diagnosis.

Keonho turned instantly.

“Whose fault is that?”

The question hit like a trigger pulled too fast.

Seonghyeon didn’t react.

“All of ours.”

That answer didn’t calm anything.

It removed escape routes.

Because shared blame means shared damage. No one gets to leave clean.

Martin’s voice cracked when it finally came out.

Not dramatic.

Just tired.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

That stopped everything.

Because Martin was always okay.

That was his role.

That was his safety.

If even he was breaking, then there was no stable point left in the room.

James looked at him properly now.

Like something in him shifted slightly out of survival mode.

Juhoon said quietly:

“We didn’t know…”

Martin laughed once.

It didn’t have humor.

“That’s the problem.”

It didn’t become shouting.

It became exposure.

Keonho admitted he felt like he was constantly fixing damage no one acknowledged.

Juhoon admitted he was scared every mistake was permanent.

Martin admitted he felt invisible unless he was performing happiness.

Seonghyeon admitted he was exhausted from seeing everything collapse before anyone else noticed.

And then—

all of them turned toward James.

Because James still hadn’t said the deepest fracture.

The one under everything else.

James swallowed.

Once.

Twice.

Like words were something he had to survive saying.

“I don’t think I belong in the version of us you all still try to protect.”

That wasn’t dramatic.

That was final in a quiet way.

Like something already decided long before the conversation began.

No one moved immediately.

Even the air felt suspended.

Keonho slowly sat down without realizing he had chosen to.

Juhoon stayed standing, but stopped fidgeting like his body had gone into shutdown.

Martin wiped his face once and didn’t bother hiding it after.

Seonghyeon looked anywhere except James, because looking would make it real.

James didn’t move either.

Because he didn’t feel like part of the room anymore.

He felt like something the room was remembering wrong.

The rehearsal lights hummed overhead.

Same room.

Same group.

Same timing.

Wrong reality.

And outside the building, the internet kept writing their ending in real time.

Inside—

they were still there.

Just not together in the way that mattered anymore.

Not yet gone.

But already leaving.

Slowly.

All at once.

Like a door closing without sound.

GENRE: Horror, thriller and mystery

Starring: OT5 x fem sixth member

The first photo was funny.

Keonho almost laughed when he saw it.

“Wait… when was this taken?”

It showed all six of them crowded outside a convenience store, James mid-laugh, Juhoon looking annoyed, Martin checking his phone.

Except—

They had all been asleep that night.

YN stared at it longer than anyone.

“…We didn’t go out,” she said.

James leaned in. “Maybe someone edited it.”

Juhoon already looked uncomfortable. “Metadata says it’s real.”

Martin frowned. “That’s impossible.”

Seonghyeon didn’t speak.

He was staring at the reflection in the glass behind them in the photo.

It didn’t match the group.

One extra figure stood slightly behind them.

Not clear.

Not sharp.

Just there.

The Second Photo

It appeared during breakfast.

No notification.

No sender.

Just… in the gallery.

This time they were in the dorm hallway.

Except the hallway light in the photo was off.

In reality, it was on.

Keonho’s hands shook slightly. “I don’t like this.”

James snatched the phone. “It’s probably staged. Someone’s messing with us.”

But Juhoon shook his head slowly.

“No one accessed our phones.”

Martin turned sharply. “What does that mean?”

Juhoon hesitated.

“It means the photos are entering on their own.”

Silence dropped.

YN zoomed in.

At the end of the hallway in the photo—

a door that didn’t exist in the dorm.

Seonghyeon’s voice was low. “That door wasn’t there yesterday.”

No one corrected him.

Because no one was sure anymore.

The Rule Break

They tried to ignore it.

That made it worse.

Because the photos kept arriving.

Each one closer.

Each one more recent.

Now it wasn’t outside the convenience store.

Now it was inside the dorm.

Now it was them sitting at the table.

Eating food that wasn’t on the table in real life.

Keonho stopped touching his phone entirely.

“Don’t open it,” he said.

Too late.

YN already had.

A new photo.

This one was different.

Because it showed them sleeping.

From above.

Inside the room.

James went still. “That’s not possible.”

Martin stood up immediately. “Check the cameras.”

Juhoon was already typing.

His face changed.

“There’s no recording for that time.”

Seonghyeon looked at the ceiling slowly.

“…Then something else took it.”

The Night It Got Loud

They agreed to stay together.

No one wanted to be alone.

Lights off, but no one slept.

The silence wasn’t normal.

It felt like waiting.

Like the building knew something they didn’t.

Then—

click.

A sound from the hallway.

Like a camera shutter.

Keonho flinched. “Did you hear that?”

James stood up immediately. “I’m checking.”

Martin grabbed him. “No.”

Another click.

Closer.

YN whispered, “It’s inside the floor.”

Juhoon shook his head fast. “That doesn’t make sense—”

Click.

Now right outside the door.

Seonghyeon moved without hesitation, stepping between them and the entrance.

“Don’t open it,” he said.

But the door handle moved anyway.

Slow.

Careful.

Like something was testing if they were watching.

Click.

And then—

silence.

Too sudden.

Too complete.

The Photo That Was Already Open

Every phone lit up at once.

No sound.

Just brightness.

One image.

Already displayed.

All six of them standing in the hallway.

Facing the door.

But none of them remembered standing there.

Martin’s voice was low. “We didn’t go out.”

Juhoon whispered, “We’re still here.”

James shook his head. “Then what is that?”

Keonho stepped back slowly. “Why am I smiling in it?”

YN stared harder.

Something was off.

Not the people.

The order.

Seonghyeon noticed first.

“…We’re not in the right positions.”

They all looked again.

And realized—

In the photo, James was closest to the door.

But in reality, he was standing behind Martin.

The photo was not lying.

It was rearranging them.

YN whispered, “It’s predicting movement.”

Martin froze. “No. That’s not prediction.”

Juhoon’s voice cracked slightly. “Then what is it?”

Seonghyeon didn’t answer immediately.

Because the handle outside moved again.

Slow.

This time—

it opened a fraction.

The Entry

James stepped forward before anyone stopped him.

“Okay. Enough. I’m done waiting.”

Martin shouted, “James—don’t!”

But James pulled the door open.

Nothing was there.

Just hallway.

Normal light.

Normal silence.

Too normal.

Keonho let out a shaky breath. “It’s gone.”

YN didn’t relax.

Seonghyeon didn’t move.

Juhoon looked down at his phone again.

“…The photo updated.”

Everyone froze.

New image.

Same hallway.

Same door.

But now—

James was standing inside it.

Looking back at them.

From the other side.

Martin grabbed James instantly. “You’re here.”

James blinked. “Yeah… obviously.”

YN slowly raised her phone.

The image didn’t match.

In the photo—

James was still outside.

Still holding the door.

Still smiling.

But the real James was already inside the hallway.

And had no memory of stepping through.

The Twist Begins to Form

Silence.

Then Keonho spoke, voice barely there.

“…Which one is real?”

No one answered.

Because the lights flickered.

Once.

And in that flicker—

YN saw it.

Just for a split second.

There were not six of them in the room.

There were seven.

Standing slightly behind them.

Holding something that looked like a camera.

Ending

Morning came like nothing happened.

The dorm was clean.

Quiet.

Normal again.

James laughed at breakfast. “I think we all just hallucinated last night.”

Martin agreed too quickly.

Juhoon didn’t argue.

Keonho smiled again, shaky but relieved.

Seonghyeon said nothing.

YN checked her phone.

No photos.

Gallery empty.

She exhaled slowly.

Then paused.

Because one file was still there.

Not in gallery.

Not in messages.

In a folder labeled:

BACKUP — CURRENT SESSION

She didn’t open it immediately.

She just stared.

Because she already knew what it would show.

And behind her—

very softly—

a shutter clicked once.

🏫 EPISODE 1: THE NOTEBOOK APPEARS

It started on a Monday.

Which already felt like a bad omen.

You walked into class late—again—and saw it sitting on your desk.

A plain black notebook.

No name. No label. No “Property of anyone sane.”

Just… there.

Keonho was already chewing on a pen like it was a life decision.

“Bro,” he said, squinting at it. “That notebook was NOT there yesterday.”

Seonghyeon leaned over your desk, immediately suspicious. “Don’t open it. That’s how horror movies start.”

Juhoon, already halfway into chaos mode, flipped it open anyway.

Inside, one sentence:

“Today: someone will spill juice. It will start a chain reaction.”

Silence.

Then James laughed. “That’s not prophecy, that’s just cafeteria physics.”

Martin, the “leader” only because no one stopped him, nodded seriously. “We monitor juice activity.”

You: “…why are we like this.”

🧃 EPISODE 2: THE JUICE INCIDENT

First period: nothing.

Second period: nothing.

Third period: the cafeteria.

Keonho walks in holding orange juice like it’s radioactive.

“I feel targeted,” he mutters.

You sit down.

James bumps into Juhoon.

Juhoon bumps into Keonho.

Keonho bumps into destiny.

The juice flies.

Slow motion.

It lands directly on the floor… which causes someone else to slip… which causes a tray collision… which causes THREE more juice spills.

Absolute domino disaster.

Silence.

Then:

Martin: “…we need to stop reading the notebook.”

Seonghyeon: “We need to start respecting it.”

You: “NO ONE RESPECTS THE JUICE PROPHECY??”

📓 EPISODE 3: THE NOTEBOOK WRITES BACK

Next page:

“They are beginning to understand.”

Juhoon screams.

Not loudly. Just emotionally.

James starts treating it like a livestream: “Guys we are officially in Episode 3 of cursed school arc.”

Keonho tries to throw the notebook away.

It returns to his bag.

No one saw it move.

Seonghyeon goes quiet. Too quiet.

“That’s… not normal,” he says.

Everyone stares at him like: wow captain obvious speaks.

Then the next prediction appears:

“Tomorrow: the classroom will lose gravity for 4 seconds.”

Martin slowly closes the notebook.

“Okay. We are done.”

🪶 EPISODE 4: THE 4-SECOND INCIDENT

The next day, 10:42 AM.

Nothing seems weird.

Then—

The chairs lift.

Pens float.

Keonho yells, “WHY AM I DOING A BACKFLIP?? I DIDN’T SIGN A CONTRACT FOR THIS—”

Juhoon is calmly spinning mid-air like he’s in a music video.

James is trying to record it: “GUYS THIS IS SO VIRAL—”

Seonghyeon is holding onto a desk like his life depends on it.

You are screaming:

“WHY IS THIS SCHOOL RUNNING ON PATCH NOTES??”

Then—

4 seconds.

It stops.

Everything drops.

Silence again.

Martin, lying on the floor: “I hate education.”

📓 EPISODE 5: THE NOTEBOOK’S RULE

That night, the notebook updates itself:

“Rule: They must not ignore me.”

Keonho: “So it’s needy?? The notebook is emotionally dependent??”

James: “Same.”

Seonghyeon: “We are not bonding with it.”

Juhoon: “I think it’s bonding with us whether we like it or not.”

You flip to the last page.

New line appears instantly:

“Final prediction: betrayal within the group.”

Everyone goes silent.

Even James stops joking.

Martin: “Okay now it’s just being dramatic.”

But the notebook doesn’t feel dramatic.

It feels… certain.

🧨 EPISODE 6: THE “BETRAYAL”

The next day, chaos is different.

Whispers.

Accusations.

The notebook keeps updating:

“Keonho will lie.”

“James will laugh at the wrong time.”

“Seonghyeon will not notice something important.”

“Juhoon will know too much.”

“Martin will try to control it.”

“And you—will open the last page.”

Everyone starts side-eyeing each other like it’s Among Us IRL.

Keonho: “I am literally just existing bro why am I a suspect??”

James: “I would betray you guys but like… emotionally, not legally.”

Seonghyeon: “Stop talking.”

Juhoon: “Guys I think the notebook is just projecting.”

Martin: “We burn it.”

You hesitate.

Then you open the last page anyway.

📓 EPILOGUE: THE TRUTH

The notebook is blank.

Then:

“I was never predicting you.”

“I was learning you.”

A pause.

Then:

“And now I’m done.”

The ink disappears.

The notebook becomes normal.

Just paper.

Just quiet.

Keonho: “…so we survived?”

James: “I feel emotionally scammed.”

Seonghyeon: “We are never talking about this again.”

Juhoon: “We are absolutely talking about this again.”

Martin sighs. “We need a new leader plan for reality.”

You close the notebook gently.

And for the first time in days—

Nothing happens.

No prophecy.

No chaos.

Just silence.

Then Keonho whispers:

“…what if it was still writing but slower?”

Everyone:

“DON’T SAY THAT.”

📌 FINAL SCENE

That night, in your classroom drawer—

A single line appears in faint ink:

“Next chapter: they think it’s over.”

PART2 OF BRO WHO POSTED THIS

The school announcement happened at exactly 7:42 a.m.

Which was already suspicious because nobody important at your school had ever been awake before 8:30.

The loudspeaker crackled.

“Due to recent… incidents,” the principal said in the exhausted voice of a man who had lost every battle against teenagers, “phones are now STRICTLY prohibited during school hours.”

The entire hallway froze.

Then all heads slowly turned toward your class.

Specifically toward OT5.

Specifically toward Juhoon, who was literally mid-livestream.

“Bro,” Keonho whispered. “Turn it OFF.”

Juhoon stared at his screen in horror. “There’s thirty thousand people watching.”

“THIRTY THOUSAND?!” you choked.

Martin peeked over his shoulder. “Wait chat’s saying the principal is behind us.”

Everyone turned.

The principal was, in fact, behind you.

Silence.

Then Seonghyeon—traitor that he was—quietly stepped to the side like he didn’t know any of you.

“You’re all coming with me,” the principal sighed.

—

By lunch break, the school had officially turned into a prison.

Teachers were confiscating phones like they were FBI agents. Students were acting like underground criminals.

Meanwhile your class looked like the main suspects in a documentary.

“This is literally dictatorship,” Juhoon complained dramatically, laying face-down on the desk.

“You caused this,” you reminded him.

“No,” he argued. “Society caused this.”

James nodded like that made sense.

Across the room, Seonghyeon was peacefully eating snacks while chaos unfolded around him, which somehow made him look even guiltier.

“That’s the face of a man planning crimes,” Keonho muttered.

Seonghyeon looked up slowly. “I’m eating crackers.”

“Exactly.”

—

Things got worse on day three.

Because despite the phone ban…

your class was STILL trending online.

Nobody knew how.

“WHO IS RECORDING US?” your teacher yelled.

The class looked genuinely emotional.

“WE DON’T KNOW.”

Another student slowly raised their hand. “There’s a fan account posting our timetable.”

The teacher sat down immediately.

“Okay maybe this generation is doomed.”

—

Then came The Incident.

It started because James found an old camcorder in the media room.

“Technically,” he said proudly, “this isn’t a phone.”

You should’ve stopped him there.

Instead, twenty minutes later, your entire class was filming a dramatic reality-show intro in the hallway.

“Previously on Disaster High—” Juhoon narrated in a deep voice.

“Move,” Seonghyeon deadpanned, trying to get to class.

“—friendships were tested—”

Keonho pointed at you aggressively. “THIS PERSON ATE MY LUNCH.”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS FREE.”

James zoomed the camcorder directly into everyone’s faces like a war reporter.

Students gathered instantly.

Someone screamed, “WAIT IS THIS THE VIRAL CLASS?”

Another person started recording with hidden smart glasses.

Within minutes, the hallway was packed.

People were whispering like they’d spotted celebrities.

“Oh my god that’s Seonghyeon.”

“He’s taller in real life.”

“No way Juhoon actually exists.”

“Keonho looks like he bites people.”

“I HEARD THAT,” Keonho snapped.

Which only made more people record him.

—

By the end of the week, the principal looked ten years older.

He called your class in for another lecture.

But the second everyone entered the office…

Juhoon accidentally tripped over a chair.

Martin laughed so hard he snorted.

You tried not to laugh and made eye contact with Seonghyeon, who immediately looked away because he was ALSO trying not to laugh.

Then the principal’s coffee spilled.

Right onto the school announcements laptop.

Everyone froze.

The laptop made a horrible noise.

And suddenly the school speakers turned on by themselves.

Broadcasting directly to the entire building.

Including one crystal clear sentence from Keonho:

“…we’re getting expelled for sure.”

Silence filled the whole school.

Then distant screaming echoed from somewhere down the hallway.

The principal slowly closed his eyes.

“You know what,” he whispered. “Just go home.”

The “go home” order should’ve ended the disaster.

Instead, it triggered Phase Two.

Because apparently somebody in your class posted:

“WE SURVIVED THE PRINCIPAL INCIDENT 🔥”

And attached a blurry photo of OT5 leaving the office like criminals escaping prison.

Four million views in six hours.

By the next morning, students from OTHER schools were standing outside your gate.

Just watching.

Like your class was an endangered species.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, staring out the window.

A girl across the street lifted binoculars.

Juhoon looked offended. “Why do I feel violated.”

“You literally livestreamed our chemistry explosion last month,” Seonghyeon said.

“That was educational.”

“That was arson.”

—

The administration completely lost control after that.

Teachers started using code names for your class.

“Has 2-B been contained?”

“No, sir. Keonho escaped during lunch.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ESCAPED?”

Meanwhile Keonho was just buying bread from the cafeteria.

—

Then the fake rumors started.

Someone online claimed Seonghyeon was secretly the son of a chaebol family because he “looked emotionally unavailable.”

Another account insisted James was a foreign exchange spy.

One conspiracy thread genuinely believed your math teacher was OT5’s secret manager.

The worst one?

A fan edit titled:

“proof juhoon and keonho divorced in 4K”

It was literally just them arguing over a chair.

And somehow it had 2.3 million likes.

—

Things hit a new level of insanity during PE class.

Your teacher made everyone run laps because “maybe physical activity will fix whatever is wrong with you people.”

It did not.

Halfway through the second lap, a drone appeared above the field.

An actual drone.

Everyone stopped running.

“…is that recording us?” you asked weakly.

James shielded his eyes dramatically. “The paparazzi found us.”

The drone zoomed directly toward Seonghyeon.

Keonho immediately grabbed a volleyball.

“No,” you warned.

“Yes.”

“KEONHO NO—”

WHACK.

The volleyball launched into the air with terrifying accuracy.

The drone dropped out of the sky like a defeated final boss.

The entire field exploded into screaming.

“YOU CAN’T JUST ATTACK AIRCRAFT,” Juhoon yelled.

“WATCH ME.”

—

The principal arrived at the scene looking spiritually disconnected from reality.

There was a broken drone on the grass.

Thirty students filming.

One teacher stress-eating crackers.

And Seonghyeon standing there holding the volleyball like evidence in a murder case.

The principal pointed silently.

“Office. NOW.”

“Which one of us?” Juhoon asked.

“…all of you.”

—

The walk to the office felt like a criminal documentary.

Students lined the hallways whispering.

Someone played dramatic music from their phone.

One person threw flower petals.

“Why are they acting like we died?” you hissed.

Martin looked emotional. “We’ve become symbols.”

“We’ve become idiots.”

—

Inside the office, the principal looked at your class for a very long time.

Then he opened TikTok.

That alone terrified everyone.

He turned the screen around.

It was a livestream.

Titled:

“WAITING OUTSIDE DISASTER CLASS DETENTION ROOM”

Seventeen thousand viewers.

Comments moving at light speed.

“SHOW SEONGHYEON”

“IS KEONHO ACTUALLY VIOLENT”

“JUHOON BLINK TWICE IF U NEED HELP”

“WHERE’S THE TALL ONE”

The principal slowly locked his phone.

Then another teacher burst into the room.

“Sir,” she said shakily, “someone sold unofficial merchandise.”

Silence.

“…what?”

She placed items on the desk.

Photocards.

STICKERS.

A hoodie saying: “survived 2-B chaos tour.”

Juhoon picked up a photocard of himself.

“…why do I look majestic.”

“That’s your concern right now?” you snapped.

Then the office door suddenly opened again.

A tiny first-year walked in nervously.

“Um,” she whispered. “Can Seonghyeon sign this.”

The room went silent.

The principal stared at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength.

Seonghyeon awkwardly took the notebook.

“…thanks for supporting academic failure,” he mumbled.

The first-year almost fainted.

And somewhere outside the office—

Warning: Ot5 cortis being crackheads

Nobody in your class knew exactly when things stopped being normal.

Maybe it was when Keonho brought a mini speaker to school and started playing dramatic background music during arguments.

Maybe it was when Juhoon snapped a ruler in half after losing one group project.

Or maybe it was when James somehow convinced half the class that the biology skeleton was haunted.

Either way, the vlog exposed all of it.

Your friend uploaded a seven-minute video called:

“our class is slightly concerning.”

Slightly.

The first frame already showed:

a flying notebook,

Martin arguing with the teacher about “creative freedom,”

and Seonghyeon asleep through all of it like a war veteran.

The internet ate it up instantly.

—

The clip that truly ruined everyone’s lives happened during math class.

The teacher stepped out for ONE minute.

ONE.

And within those sixty seconds:

Keonho climbed onto the windowsill yelling,

“IF THIS TEST FAILS ME I’M FAILING IT BACK.”

James started fake-commentating the situation like a sports announcer.

“And here we see Keonho entering his natural habitat—academic collapse.”

Martin was in the background trying to teach a paper airplane “advanced aerodynamics.”

Juhoon had both hands over his face whispering:

“We are never getting jobs.”

and Seonghyeon was casually eating chips while watching everything unfold like Netflix.

Then the teacher walked back in.

Silence.

Perfect silence.

Except Martin’s paper airplane smacked the teacher directly in the forehead.

The video cut there.

Thirty million views.

—

After that, your classroom basically became a national reality show.

Students from other schools started recognizing the five of them in public.

Keonho LOVED it.

He started acting like an influencer overnight.

He’d enter class late, remove his sunglasses dramatically, and go:

“Sorry paparazzi delayed me.”

There were no paparazzi.

Just James recording him on a calculator.

—

James became dangerous once he discovered editing apps.

Every vlog suddenly had:

dramatic zoom-ins,

sad violin music,

fake subtitles,

and slow-motion sequences for absolutely no reason.

One episode included a cinematic montage of Juhoon opening a juice box.

The comments called it:

“cinema.”

Juhoon looked genuinely offended reading that.

—

Martin somehow became the fandom favorite because he never acted embarrassed.

Ever.

The SECOND a camera appeared, he transformed.

He’d start:

fake interviews,

motivational speeches,

random dance battles,

and dramatic monologues in the middle of class.

One time the teacher asked:

“Where’s your homework?”

And Martin stood up slowly and said:

“Sometimes… the real homework… is the emotional growth we experience along the way.”

The class lost it.

Even Juhoon laughed for ten whole seconds.

Historic moment.

—

Meanwhile Seonghyeon accidentally became the “mysterious quiet guy” online despite being equally stupid.

People made edits of him because he always looked calm during chaos.

But the vlog never captured WHAT he was actually saying.

Like the time the classroom lights flickered and he immediately whispered:

“This is how horror movies start. Keonho dies first.”

Or when James tripped over a chair and Seonghyeon calmly said:

“Natural selection.”

Half the class almost passed out laughing.

—

Juhoon suffered the most.

He did NOT want internet fame.

Unfortunately the camera kept catching him having the funniest reactions.

Especially one viral clip where:

Martin and Keonho were sword-fighting with rolled-up worksheets,

James was yelling WWE commentary,

Seonghyeon was recording instead of helping,

and Juhoon slowly took off his glasses before saying:

“One day I’m going to end up on the news because of you people.”

The comments called him:

“the exhausted dad friend.”

—

Things only got worse when the school tried stopping the uploads.

The principal announced:

“No more classroom videos.”

That same day James uploaded:

“principal villain arc begins.”

Ten million views.

—

Eventually the classroom stopped feeling like a classroom.

It became:

a live comedy show,

a survival game,

and a social experiment all at once.

Teachers entered with fear.

Students from other grades visited during breaks like tourists.

And every single day somehow ended with:

Keonho screaming,

Martin making speeches nobody asked for,

James recording instead of helping,

Juhoon questioning humanity,

Ahn keonho x femreader

WARNING: Swimmer keonho x taekwondo reader

**********************************************

It was never supposed to get this messy.

At first, it was simple.

You hated him.

He annoyed you.

End of story.

“Your footwork is sloppy today.”

You stopped mid-kick.

Slowly turned.

“…Do you have a death wish, swimmer boy?”

Keonho leaned casually against the dojang doorframe like he paid rent there. “Relax. I’m helping.”

“By insulting me?”

“By being honest.”

Your teammates were already whispering.

“Ohhh it’s him again—”

“Why does he keep coming here?”

“Are they… fighting or flirting?”

You snapped, “OUT.”

Keonho just grinned.

Yeah. That grin was a problem.

Across the hall, his swim team wasn’t any better.

“Bro,” one of them nudged him, “you skipped recovery training… to watch taekwondo practice?”

Keonho shrugged. “It’s entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” another scoffed. “Or is it her?”

He didn’t answer.

Which was answer enough.

It escalated fast.

Too fast.

You started noticing things.

He only showed up when you trained.

His eyes followed you, not the match.

And worst of all—

You started looking for him too.

One evening, you were sparring when your opponent swept your leg.

You hit the mat hard.

Before your coach could even react—

“Get up.”

His voice.

Sharp.

Different.

You looked up.

Keonho wasn’t smiling.

“Don’t stay down like that,” he said, jaw tight.

Your pride snapped back instantly. You pushed yourself up. “I don’t need your help.”

“Good,” he shot back. “Then stop fighting like you do.”

Your teammates went dead silent.

“…Who does he think he is?” someone muttered.

You clenched your fists.

But instead of yelling—

You proved him wrong.

The next round?

You dominated.

After practice, you stormed toward him.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem?” he scoffed. “You’re better than that and you know it.”

“You don’t get to talk like you know me!”

“I watch you every day,” he snapped.

Silence.

Oops.

That slipped out.

“…You what?” your voice dropped.

Keonho froze for half a second.

Then recovered. “As an athlete.”

“Right,” you said, clearly not convinced.

Your teammate pulled you aside immediately.

“Why is the swim team captain obsessed with you?”

“I am NOT—” you started.

But you couldn’t finish it.

Because you didn’t believe it anymore either.

The rumors spread.

Fast.

Too fast.

“Swimmer boy and taekwondo girl??”

“No way, they hate each other.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s suspicious.”

Your coach even warned you.

“Focus on your training. No distractions.”

Across the hall, Keonho got the same talk.

“Stay in your lane,” his coach said. “We don’t need drama with other teams.”

Too late.

The breaking point?

Jealousy.

It happened during a joint sports event.

You were talking to another athlete—laughing, relaxed for once.

Keonho saw it.

And something in him… snapped.

He walked straight up, grabbed your wrist—not rough, but firm.

“We need to talk.”

You frowned. “I’m busy.”

“With him?” his voice sharpened.

Your eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

That was the wrong question.

“Because I do,” he said.

Too fast.

Too honest.

Too loud.

The other athlete awkwardly backed off.

Your teammates were staring.

His teammates were definitely staring.

“…Keonho,” one of them whispered, “what are you doing?”

But he didn’t let go.

You pulled your hand free.

“Oh, now you care?” you shot back. “After acting like I’m just your entertainment?”

“That’s not—”

“Then what am I?” your voice cracked slightly. “A distraction? A joke?”

His expression changed instantly.

“No.”

Softer.

Real.

“…You’re not a joke.”

Silence hit like a punch.

“I just—” he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t like seeing you with someone else.”

Your heart flipped.

Annoying.

Complicated.

Dangerous.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you said, even though your voice wasn’t as steady anymore.

“Then help me fix it.”

You blinked. “…What?”

He stepped closer.

“Go out with me.”

Dead. Silence.

“…You’re insane,” you whispered.

“Probably,” he admitted. “But I’m serious.”

From somewhere in the background—

“HE CONFESSED??”

“Oh my god—”

“THIS IS BETTER THAN DRAMA—”

Your face burned.

“…Not here, idiot!”

“Then where?”

You grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

Behind the building, away from everyone, you finally stopped.

“…You can’t just do that,” you hissed.

“Why not?”

“Because now everyone thinks—”

“I don’t care about them.”

You froze.

“…I care about you.”

There it was again.

That stupid, dangerous sincerity.

“You’re ruining everything,” you muttered.

“Then why didn’t you say no?”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“…I hate you.”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah?”

You stepped closer.

“…But I don’t want you with anyone else either.”

That was all it took.

“Good,” he said softly.

Then, before you could overthink—

He pulled you in.

Not a full kiss.

Just—

Foreheads touching.

Breath mixing.

Too close.

“Then we’re even,” he murmured.

Dating didn’t fix the chaos.

It made it worse.

Your team:

“YOU’RE DATING HIM???”

“THE SWIM TEAM CAPTAIN??”

“TRAITOR.”

His team:

“Bro finally lost it.”

“She could literally kick you unconscious.”

“Respect.”

Coaches:

“Absolutely not during competition season.”

You both:

“…oops.”

Sneaking around didn’t work.

You argued. A lot.

Competitive. Stubborn. Explosive.

But somehow—

You always came back.

One night, after a particularly bad argument, you tried to walk away.

He caught your hand.

“Stop running.”

“I’m not running.”

“You always do when things get real.”

You turned, frustrated. “And you don’t? You hide everything behind jokes!”

“Because if I don’t,” he said quietly, “I might actually say something that matters.”

That shut you up.

“…Like what?” you asked.

He stepped closer.

Close enough to erase the distance.

“…Like how much I need you to stop pretending you don’t feel this.”

Your heartbeat betrayed you.

Again.

“…You’re so annoying,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

Then finally—

He kissed you.

Properly this time.

And yeah.

The rivalry never really ended.

You still argued.

Still competed.

Still pushed each other too far.

But now?

When you stepped into the ring—

He was the loudest one cheering.

And when he hit the water—

You never looked away.

Chaos.

Drama.

And somehow—

It worked.

Idol Martin x katseye reader

It started with one photo.

Blurry. Taken at night. Grainy enough to be questionable—but clear enough to ruin lives.

Martin, hoodie pulled low, standing outside a convenience store.

And you.

Standing way too close to him.

By morning, the internet was already on fire.

“TOP IDOL MARTIN SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY GIRL—IS HE DATING?”

“MYSTERY GIRL IDENTIFIED AS KATSEYE MEMBER?!”

“FANS DIVIDED—BETRAYAL OR JUST FRIENDSHIP?”

Your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

Messages. Calls. Notifications exploding.

Your group chat was chaos.

“WHY ARE YOU TRENDING???”

“IS THAT ACTUALLY YOU???”

“GIRL WHAT DID YOU DO 😭”

You hadn’t even processed it yet.

Until your manager slammed the dorm door open.

“We need to talk. Now.”

Across the city, Martin wasn’t having it easy either.

His company had already released a statement:

“They are just colleagues.”

Which only made things worse.

Because fans didn’t believe it.

Clips started resurfacing.

Award shows where his eyes lingered on you a second too long.

Behind-the-scenes videos where you were laughing only with him.

That one fancam where he subtly moved closer to you during a group stage.

“THIS WASN’T RANDOM.”

“THEY’VE BEEN HIDING THIS FOR MONTHS.”

“WE WERE BLIND.”

And then—

The second photo dropped.

This time, clearer.

Him holding your wrist.

Not aggressively.

Not casually.

Just enough to say—

you mattered.

That’s when things spiraled.

Fanwars. Hashtags. People picking sides.

“PROTECT MARTIN”

“KATSEYE GIRL USING HIM FOR CLOUT”

“LET THEM DATE”

“THIS IS UNPROFESSIONAL”

You finally saw him again backstage at a music show.

Security was tighter. Staff were tense. Everyone was watching.

The moment your eyes met—

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

You walked up to him before you could think better of it.

“You saw it?” you asked.

He let out a dry laugh. “Hard not to.”

There was a pause.

Heavy. Complicated.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You blinked. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You frowned. “You’re trending for the wrong reasons. Your fans are—”

“I don’t care about that.”

That made you stop.

“Then what do you care about?” you asked.

For the first time since all of this started, Martin looked… frustrated.

Not at the situation.

At you.

“That you’re dealing with this alone.”

Your breath caught.

Before you could respond, footsteps echoed nearby—staff approaching.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

If anything, he leaned slightly closer.

“Tell me one thing,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Do you regret it?”

Your heart started pounding.

The photos. The late-night talk. The way he looked at you like you weren’t just another idol.

“…No,” you admitted.

Something in his expression shifted—like that was all he needed.

“Good,” he said.

Because right as the staff turned the corner—

He didn’t let go of your wrist.

And somewhere online…

A new headline was already being written.

Warning: This is my first fanfic ever so it may be bad pls don't hesitate to give ur opinions on it

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Seonghyeon never planned on having a maknae like you.

At first, when you joined CORTIS, he treated you like any other rookie—distant, focused, and a little intimidating. You were the youngest, after all, always trailing behind, trying to keep up with missions and training.

But somehow… you ended up sticking close to him.

“Seonghyeon, wait up!” you called, jogging to match his pace.

He glanced back, expression neutral. “You’re slow.”

“I’m not slow, you just walk like you’re chasing someone.”

“…Maybe I am.”

You laughed, not taking him seriously. That was your thing—you never seemed scared of him.

And that was exactly the problem.

One afternoon during training, you were paired with another member.

Seonghyeon noticed immediately.

You were laughing. Smiling. Actually smiling.

His grip tightened slightly on his weapon.

"Focus"someone beside him muttered.

“I am,” he replied flatly… even though his eyes hadn’t left you.

Later, when practice ended, you ran up to him again.

“Did you see that move? I almost got it right!”

Seonghyeon looked at you for a second before speaking.

“You were too close.”

“Huh?”

“To him,” he said bluntly.

You blinked. “It’s training…?”

“…Still.”

You stared at him, then smirked a little. “Are you jealous?”

His expression didn’t change—but he turned away a bit too quickly.

“No.”

“Seonghyeon—”

“Stop talking and walk properly,” he muttered, slowing down just enough so you could keep up.

From that day on, it became… obvious.

If you trained with someone else, he’d suddenly “correct” your form.

If you laughed too much, he’d interrupt with something serious.

If you walked too far ahead—

“Stay where I can see you.”

“…Why?”

“…Because you get into trouble.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Or because you don't like it when I'm not with you?"

He paused.

"…Both."

Despite everything, he never said anything directly.

But his actions?

Always waiting. Always watching. Always making sure you were right beside him.

And honestly?