#loona x reader

available for requests !!!

go go juice: (idol) has missed their ex, they can't lie about it. here and there hookups are their thing but it hasn't happened in a while. next thing you know a surprising call from said ex comes through and how can they say no to them?

don't worry i'll make you worry: (male idol) and y/n has decided to run back their toxic situationship after his begging. this made them realise they have him in the palm of their hands and now they know exactly how they're like, y/n refuses to trust them. the sex is good, a side of having them feel exactly how you felt back then? even better.

goodbye: (idol) has come back from tour, originally going for their stuff at y/n place, seeing them gives them reminiscent feelings. break up sex? why not?

unable to request as it is completed/being written:

when did you get hot?: COMPLETED <- click to read eric sohn from the boyz since when did the boy that y/n grew up next door to become so hot? their mother still being close to the next door neighbours had it's perks, next thing you know you had free concert tickets with a backstage reunion, a side of catchup drinks and confessions that led to something unpredictable.

house tour: COMPLETED <- click to read sim jaeyun (jake) from enhypen y/n is proud of their new home, what's even better is for fwb!jake to help "bless" their new place.

tears: COMPLETED <- click to read yoon jeonghan from seventeen after a series of shitty first dates, y/n finds it unbelievable they can't find anyone respectful. then they get set up on a blind date by their best friend with jeonghan.

house tour: COMPLETED <- click to read sophia laforteza from katseye y/n is proud of their new home, what's even better is for exfwb!sophia to help "bless" their new place.

never getting laid: being written choi seungcheol from seventeen when picking up their stuff seungcheol stumbled onto the brand new diary entry of their ex's. written in it is full of wishes that seungcheol never gets laid and he realises he feels the same, the very thought of someone else giving y/n the pleasure they give. they can't live. they realise their dear y/n is crazy but god are they all theirs.

nobody's son: being written hong joshua from seventeen after joshua and y/n both experience a terrible break up, they get linked by a mutual friend and start a fwb going. it's called trauma bonding AND having great sex!

sugar talking: being written yu jimin (karina) from aespa all karina and y/n do is fight. maybe it's the long distance getting them but all y/n wants is karina home and the latest article of another dating rumour isn't helping their tension.

my man on willpower: being written lee chan (dino) from seventeen y/n, the hottest person alive is terribly confused on why their idol boyfriend of six months has gone cold and became a workaholic. (surprise it was all a miscommunication)

we almost broke up again last night: being written lee heeseung from enhypen how many times are they going to break up? everyone around y/n and heeseung says but this time it's permanent! they always say that though. but three months has passed, everyone who knows the long-term couple is starting to believe them. until they find themselves at a party, after seeing each other again, it brings up a lot.

BLITZØ

Honestly, it depends on what type of relationship you have with him

Familial relationship? Best BELIEVE he’s coddling the shit outta you rn

^ def a cheek pincher

“Hey sweetie? Do you need me ta fuck someone up for ya?”

But if y’all are platonic, or SATAN FORBID

R O M A N T I C ?

Ur not getting Shit

Well, until you start crying

“You’re a fuckin’ baby, you know that?”

Very casual hugs

Always sits his chin on you

Will complain the entire time

But you both know he loves you

LOONA

“Oh shit, you good?”

She’s blunt, not heartless

Honestly pretty touched that you asked for a hug instead of just going for one

Like her adoptive dad, very casual hugs

Usually just slings an arm over your shoulders

Won’t talk to you about it

Y’all just sit in comforting silence

Don’t let anyone point out that she’s letting you touch her

Will get v flustered

Depending on how you both feel - may let you play with her hair to self regulate

MILLIE

“Sure thing, hun!”

Doesn’t matter who you are, or why you need a hug, she’ll take it

Physical affection is her top love language idc

Squeezes super super tight

Like, you can barely breathe

Gushes over how sweet you are

Will probs pepper your face in kisses too (doesn’t matter what ur relationship with her is)

((Millie is a strong believer in non-romantic kisses, she told me herself))

Will probs ask Moxxie to bring y’all a drink

MOXXIE

“Uhh, you sure you want a hug from me?”

Yes babe I’m sure

Doesn’t think he’s the best one to be comforting you - will palm you off to Millie if he can

But will be offended if anyone else says he can’t look after you

^^ Gets all huffy about it

Distraction is his new best friend

Will tell you a mixture of stories and fun facts to try and make you feel better

Will also make you a hot drink

If you want to, will talk out your feelings with you

STOLAS

Babes just blinks for a hot minute as your words register with him

Has the softest smile

“Of course, dearest. Come here.”

A hug isn’t enough for him, you’re in for a full blown cuddle sesh now

Likes the feeling of having you fully wrapped up in his arms

Forehead kisses. Forehead Kisses.

Will sometimes swaddle you in blankets like a literal baby

Hums softly for you

Tries to ask what’s wrong, will def push the subject

He just wants to fix it, okay?

Will just,,, smother you in affection until you’re okay

And then some

OCTAVIA

Judgemental eyebrow raise.

Judgy, judgy girl

Y’all gotta be CLOSE for her to hug

((But not really, she’s so touch starved its not funny, but we don’t talk about that-))

Long, comforting hugs

If u end up crying, will fix your makeup for you

Don’t mention it though

Like, literally don’t mention it or it won’t happen again

She probs just breathes a sigh of relief when y’all hugs

Holds on a little too tight, for a little too long

If you ask first, she’ll start coming to you for hugs now too

FIZZAROLLI

Baby. Baby, baby man.

Will wrap his arms around you several times over

Another really tight hugger

You had shit to do?

Sike, not anymore

Now you’re spending all day with Fizz

Your fault, you started it by asking for a hug

Is super worried about you, but tries to play it down

Will do stupid shit just to see you laugh

Will ALSO flirt with you until you can’t stand it anymore

ASMODEUS

Immediately concerned, does not try to hide it

Much like his bf, cancels all plans for today

Y’all are gonna be chilling in bed and cuddling now

Just kinda,,, scoops you up?

Definitely plays with your hair

Gives a SOLID head massage

So so gentle and sweet

Just lays you on his chest

Draws pictures on your back and makes you guess what he’s drawing

^^ he does this to help ground you

Tbh he’ll probably drag Fizz to bed too, so know they’re both looking after you

the silence of your dressing room in los angeles is a sharp, polished contrast to the chaotic, dorm-room laughter that once echoed through your days in seoul. outside, the city hums with the electric potential of a career that has defied your own wildest, most anxious expectations. a grammy nomination sits on your vanity, a gold–plated testament to the risk you took—the risk of leaving behind the only family you had ever known to run into the arms of a foreign industry.

you look at the mirror. the woman looking back is a star, someone who controls her own narrative, someone who never has to worry about the predatory fine print of a subsidiary contract again. but as you scroll through your phone, the distance between you and your past feels like a physical ache.

it has been three years since the final signatures were dry, since the contracts were officially terminated in april 2025. you are technically "inactive" as a member of loona, but in the court of public opinion, you are a ghost.

you see the posts. you see artms—heejin, haseul, kim lip, jinsoul, and choerry—navigating the complexities of their new collective identity under modhaus. they look fierce, polished, and synchronized, a tightly knit unit that managed to capture the lightning of your old chemistry. you see loossemble, blossoming under the stewardship of ctdenm before their departure, hyunjin and hyeju finding their footing in a new space. you see yves, standing tall as a soloist, her artistic integrity shining through collaborations that bridge the gap between k–pop and western alternative scenes. you see chuu, still the radiant, refreshing force that the world fell in love with, finding her groove in the k–pop landscape with a resilience that makes you proud.

you follow them all, of course. you drop a ‘like’ on a teaser photo. you leave a heart emoji under a milestone post. it’s what fans do. it’s what you do to pretend that the silence isn't deliberate. but deep down, you know that your silence isn't born of malice—it’s born of a paralyzing, irrational fear that if you reach out, the ghost of your past will start haunting your future. you were so terrified of the systemic mistreatment that tore you all apart that you decided, perhaps selfishly, to burn the bridge to keep yourself warm on your own path.

then, your eyes catch a post from choerry: it’s a candid photo from a rehearsal break. she looks tired, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, but her eyes—those expressive, sparkling eyes that were once the mirror to your own—are looking at a space in the group where you used to stand. the caption is simple, a lyric from a song you both loved during the max & match era.

your heart stutters. you remember the promise you made on the night the news broke, the night you all sat on the floor of a rented space, holding hands and swearing that distance wouldn't mean abandonment. “we’ll always be each other's home,” she had whispered, her head resting on your shoulder, her tears staining your shirt.

you broke that promise, and you know she knows it.

the move to the american market hadn't just been a business pivot; it had been an identity reformation. you were tired of being a piece of a puzzle controlled by suits in blockberry creative. you wanted to be the one holding the brush. your debut mini-album was a cry for help turned into a manifesto.

“this is what i wanted to say,” you told the label executives in your first meeting. you brought them your own visual concepts—mood boards filled with surrealism, vintage film textures, and themes of liberation. they were stunned. they expected a copy of what you were doing in korea; you gave them something entirely new.

when the album dropped, the success was an avalanche. it wasn't just the music—it was the authenticity. the lyrics weren't just catchy; they were heavy with the weight of the years you spent fighting for your agency. the public didn't just consume your songs; they devoured them. you were no longer just “the member of loona”; you were an artist in your own right.

but as the success grew, the barrier between you and your sisters solidified.

you remember the last text you sent to choerry. “i’m really proud of you. i’m just so busy with the comeback preparation. i’ll call when things settle down.” things never settled down. success is a relentless beast. it eats your free time, it consumes your weekends, and eventually, it makes you feel like you don't belong in the spaces you used to occupy. you started to feel out of place in their group chats, watching them discuss schedules and outfits that didn’t involve you. you felt like an outsider looking into a life you once lived.

you convinced yourself that by distancing yourself, you were protecting them from your own success, or perhaps protecting yourself from the pain of being a memory to them. but you were wrong. you were just cowardice dressed up as independence.

six months after the anniversary of the contract termination, an opportunity arises. a global music festival in london. your name is on the lineup, right next to a few others from the k-pop industry. you see the artms schedule. they’ll be there.

the night before the performance, the festival organizers host a private mixer for the headliners. you stand at the edge of the room, sipping a glass of water, watching the crowd. you feel the weight of your own notoriety, but it feels hollow compared to the sight of them.

they are in the center of the room—heejin laughing at something jinsoul said, kim lip checking her watch, and there, a few steps behind, is choerry.

she looks different. she has grown into a woman who possesses a quiet, steady strength. she isn't the girl who used to cling to your sleeve at airports anymore.

your pulse quickens. you know you should walk away. you should retreat to your hotel room and continue the cycle of digital acknowledgment and physical silence. but then, choerry’s eyes wander. she catches your gaze across the room.

her expression doesn’t shift into a smile. she doesn’t wave. she simply stares at you, a look of profound, quiet sorrow that cuts through the noise of the party. it’s the look of someone who has spent years waiting for a phone call that never comes.

you find yourself moving before you can talk yourself out of it. you weave through the crowd, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. as you get closer, the rest of them notice. the conversation dies down. heejin turns, her eyes widening in surprise. kim lip goes still.

but it’s choerry who doesn't move. she stays anchored, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze locked onto yours.

“i didn’t think you’d be here,” heejin says softly, her voice bridging the tension.

“i didn’t think i would be either,” you admit, your throat dry. you look at them—five of them, a group, a unit, a family—and then you look at yourself, the soloist, the successful, lonely outlier.

you turn to choerry. you want to apologize, but the words feel too small for the magnitude of the hurt you caused. “choerry,” you start.

she takes a shaky breath. “you told me you were busy, but you were on the front page of every magazine,” she says. her voice isn’t angry. it’s resigned. “i spent a year waiting for that call. and then i spent a year being angry. and now… now i think i just feel tired.”

“i was scared,” you say, the confession spilling out before you can filter it. “i was terrified that if i held onto the past, i would get dragged back into the darkness. i thought if i succeeded on my own, i would prove that we were all better off separated. i think i just… i built a wall, and i didn’t realize i was locking you out.”

“you didn’t just lock me out,” choerry says, her eyes shimmering. “you made me feel like i was holding you back. like the time we spent together was something you needed to outrun.”

the room goes silent. you can feel the weight of the others’ gazes—they aren't attacking you, but they are’'t shielding her, either. they know the history. they know the bond you shared.

“i never felt held back by you,” you whisper. “you were the only thing that made the hold bearable. i think i was just afraid of failing, and if i failed while i was still ‘one of them,’ i would be failing you too. i thought if i did it alone, the only person i could disappoint was myself.”

choerry looks at you for a long moment, searching your face for the version of you she knew. the silence stretches, filled with three years of unspoken grief, late–night texts left on ‘read,’ and the realization that growth often requires the sacrifice of the very things we love.

“you won, didn’t you?” she asks. “you got the career. you got the charts. you got the fame.«

“i got everything i thought i wanted,” you reply, realizing the truth of it as you say it. “but it doesn’t feel like much when i look at you.”

choerry finally drops her gaze. she looks at her friends, then back at you. she doesn’t step toward you to hug you; she doesn’t offer the comfort she once would have. she is no longer the girl who idealizes you. she is a woman who has learned to put herself first, just like you did.

“we’re doing well,” she says, her voice gaining a bit of its old sparkle, though it is tempered by the hard-won wisdom of the last few years. “we’re doing really well. and i’m happy for you. truly.”

it’s the dismissal that hurts the most—not a harsh one, but a final one. she isn't closing the door; she’s just showing you that you are no longer standing in the house.

“can we… is there a chance to try again?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “not the same way. not the way we were. but maybe… just to talk?”

choerry looks at you, really looks at you, and for a second, you see the girl who loved you for who you were, not for what you achieved.

“maybe,” she says softly. “but you have to stop being a ghost, and you have to stop treating us like memories. we’re still here, and we’re still moving forward.”

the festival ends. you perform your set, and for the first time in years, the roar of the crowd doesn't drown out the silence in your head. you realize that you didn't leave the group to move forward; you left to hide from your own shadow.

you return to your hotel room and open your phone. you go to the group chat that has been silent for 1,095 days. your fingers hover over the keyboard. you don't type an excuse. you don't try to justify the years of absence.

you simply type: “i saw you all today. you were incredible. i'm sorry i wasn't there for the climb. is it too late to ask how you’ve been?”

you set the phone down on the table, your hands shaking. you don’t know if they will reply. you don’t know if the bond can be stitched back together, or if it will forever bear the scar of your departure. but for the first time since the contracts were torn up, you aren't waiting for the industry to give you validation. you aren't building a wall.

you are just a woman, alone in a hotel room, waiting for her friends. and for the first time in three years, the silence doesn't feel like home. it feels like a space waiting to be filled.

you look out the window at the london skyline, the lights reflecting in the glass like a thousand tiny stars. you realize that the beauty of loona’s discography wasn’t just in the production or the concepts—it was in the fact that you were once a part of something that meant everything to someone.

you were part of a constellation. and even if you drifted to the edge of the galaxy, the light you shared is still traveling through the dark. you are loona, even if you are no longer together. and perhaps, that is enough of a beginning to start over.

three months later, you find yourself in tokyo.

the festival is bigger than the last one. brighter. louder. there are cameras everywhere, idols weaving through backstage hallways, managers calling schedules over headsets. it should feel familiar by now.

instead, your stomach is in knots. because artms is here again. you found out two weeks ago when the lineup was announced. and unlike london, this time nobody can pretend it was a surprise.

you've been talking to them. not constantly. not enough to erase three years of silence. but enough: heejin sends you photos of random things she sees during schedules. jinsoul replies to your instagram stories with sarcastic comments. kim lip occasionally drops into your messages just to bully you about your sleeping habits. haseul calls once every few weeks and somehow manages to make it feel like no time has passed at all. even hyeju and hyunjin have exchanged messages with you.

everyone except choerry. choerry never replied. not to the message you sent after london. not to the follow-up text a month later. not to the birthday message. nothing. and somehow that hurts worse than if she'd blocked you. because the message always says delivered. never read. just sitting there. waiting.

you spot heejin first backstage. “hey!”

she practically crashes into you before you can escape. you laugh as she throws her arms around your shoulders. “you're going to break my spine.”

“good.”

“nice to see you too.”

heejin grins. for a moment, everything feels normal. dangerously normal.

the two of you end up sitting together in catering twenty minutes later. she’s halfway through stealing food from your plate… some habits never die.

“i'm serious,” heejin says. “you look less miserable.”

“wow.”

“i mean it as a compliment.”

“thanks, i think.”

she laughs. then her expression softens. “you’ve been trying.”

you stare down at your coffee, feeling embarrassed by her sudden compliment, since it had been quite a while since you’d heard her say anything like that. heejin seemed quite serious, and her deep voice intimidated anyone who barely knew her or knew little about her, but she was always a sweet person who could easily give you a smile. “i know.”

“and everyone sees it.”

everyone. except one person.

heejin notices the shift immediately. of course she does. “you haven’t talked to her.”

it isn’t a question. it was clearly a statement from her in an attempt to bring up a topic she clearly wanted to address but didn’t know how to approach. it wasn’t surprising because you imagined that sooner or later, when you saw one of them again, they would bring up the subject of light. breaking off contact with people you’d spent so much time with was pretty crazy and would probably surprise anyone, so don’t blame them for wanting to know what was going on behind the scenes.

“no.”

“have you tried?” the question was almost mocking because she was asking something so basic, yet it carried so much weight without her even trying. it was something that people could often ask you about when they heard you deny the initial question.

“heejin.”

“have you?”

you glare, but she waits. of course she would wait because she genuinely wanted to know what was going on, since it was clear that she hadn't received any information from the other person either. you knew she was curious about the whole topic and wouldn’t let you easily change the course of the conversation, but you still wanted to try to prevent the conversation from getting to the point where she wanted.

“... yes.”

“how many times?”

“enough.”

“she’s angry.”

“i figured.”

“really angry.”

you laugh bitterly, without even wanting to continue the conversation, but also not wanting to leave her talking to herself. that’s a topic you’d been avoiding for so long that you couldn’t even imagine talking about it, so bringing up the subject again was like reopening a wound that was trying to heal after being stitched up.

“yeah. i figured that too.”

heejin studies you for a moment. “you know what the problem is?”

“probably several things.”

“you’re fixing relationships with everyone except the person you actually broke.” that one lands. hard. but because she’s right. it’s easier with everyone else. everyone else didn’t spend years wondering why they weren’t enough for you to stay. everyone else wasn’t choerry.

before you can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the hallway. your entire body freezes.

artms is heading toward catering. you see haseul first. then kim lip. then jinsoul. and then—choerry. she’s laughing at something jinsoul said, until she sees you. the smile disappears instantly. not dramatically. not angrily. it just vanishes, like a light being switched off.

the group slows. an awkward silence settles over everyone.

you hate how natural conversation feels with the others now. you hate that she notices it too, because she watches as kim lip casually nudges your shoulder, as jinsoul asks about your performance, as haseul checks whether you've eaten. all these little interactions. all these reminders that somehow everyone found their way back to you. everyone except her.

choerry’s jaw tightens, barely noticeable, but you see it. she turns toward heejin, ignoring you completely in a way that made it clear her purpose was to pretend you didn’t exist, but still make you notice. “we should go.”

heejin blinks. “we literally just got here.”

“we should go.”

the tension snaps tight. you feel your chest sink, and before you can stop yourself— “choerry.”

she stops, but doesn’t turn around, doesn’t acknowledge you. just stops.

your heart pounding so loudly you’re convinced everyone can hear it. “can we talk?”

nothing.

"please."

finally, she turns: her eyes are shining with something far sharper than sadness. hurt. months ago, in london, there had still been grief. now there's resentment.

“talk about what?” the question is calm. too calm.

“about us.”

she lets out a short laugh. not a happy one. “that’s funny.”

your stomach drops. “choerry—”

“you talk to everybody else.”

the room goes completely silent. nobody moves. nobody interrupts. because this has been coming for months.

“you call haseul.”

“choerry—”

“you text heejin.” she points toward the older girl. “you reply to jinsoul.” another step. “you joke around with kim lip.” another. “but every time you see me, you act like you’re scared.”

your throat closes. because she's right. you are scared. she was always the person who mattered most, which means losing her hurts the most, and maybe that's why you've been avoiding it. “i wasn’t avoiding you.”

choerry actually rolls her eyes. “that’s your defense?”

but you don’t have one, because every explanation sounds pathetic. every reason sounds selfish.

she laughs again, this time there’s genuine pain in it. “you disappeared for three years. then you come back and suddenly you’re everyone’s friend again except mine.”

her voice cracks, just slightly, but it's enough. “do you have any idea how that feels?”

nobody says anything. not even heejin. choerry looks away, shaking her head. “i would’ve rather you ignored all of us.”

“what?”

“because then at least it would’ve been honest.” the words hit harder than any yelling could have. for the first time since london, you realize something: choerry isn't angry because you left. she's angry because you came back. just not to her. and standing there, surrounded by the people you once called home, you realize that maybe apologizing was the easy part. earning back choerry’s trust? that’s going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

the silence that follows feels unbearable. you can practically hear your own heartbeat. choerry looks away first, like she already regrets saying anything at all... like she's tired. tired of waiting. tired of hoping. tired of being hurt. and somehow that makes it worse because anger would be easier, anger means someone still cares enough to fight. and this feels like she's already halfway out the door.

“that’s not fair.” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

choerry’s eyes immediately snap back to yours. “not fair?”

“you think i wanted this?”

a bitter laugh escapes her. “wanted what?”

“all of it.” you gesture helplessly between the two of you. “i didn’t wake up one day and decide i wanted to lose you.”

“really?” she asks, her voice is dangerously quiet. “because from where i was standing, it looked exactly like that.”

your chest tightens. “you don’t know what was happening.”

“then tell me.” the challenge comes instantly. “because apparently nobody knows.”

you open your mouth, then close it. because how do you explain three years? how do you explain fear that sounds ridiculous now? how do you explain that success felt less like winning and more like drowning?

choerry shakes her head. “that’s what i thought.”

“stop doing that.”

“doing what?”

”acting like you know everything.”

her expression hardens.

“i know you left. i know you stopped calling. i know i sat there defending you to everyone for months.”

each sentence lands like a punch. “choerry—”

“no.” for the first time, her voice rises. not shouting, but enough. enough that everyone nearby pretends not to be listening. “you don’t get to interrupt me.”

you fall silent, and she laughs bitterly. “do you know how embarrassing it was?”

your eyebrows pull together. “what?”

“waiting for you.” the answer comes immediately, without hesitation, without mercy.

“every time somebody asked if i’d talked to you.” another step. “every time someone asked if we’d drifted apart.” another. “every birthday. every holiday. every achievement.”

her eyes are wet now, but she doesn’t look away. “i kept thinking maybe this would be the day.”

you can’t breathe, because you know exactly what day she means: the call. the text. anything. something.

”and then i started seeing interviews.”

“choerry—”

“don’t.” she points at you. “don’t tell me i’m wrong.”

you remember the interviews. the questions...

‘do you still keep in touch with your former members?’

and every time—sometimes. occasionally. we’re all busy. safe answers, careful answers. answers that protected you, but answers that hurt her.

“i watched you tell the entire world you still cared about us.” her voice shakes. “while i couldn’t even get a reply.”

you stare, completely speechless. because there isn’t a defense, there never was.

choerry lets out a shaky breath. “do you know what the worst part is?”

you almost don’t want to ask, but you do anyway. “what?”

she laughs, a small, broken sound. “i would’ve forgiven you, the first year.” another breath. “the second year.” her voice cracks. “even the third.”

you feel sick, because she means it. she would’ve. she would’ve opened the door every single time, and you never knocked.

“but then london happened. and i thought maybe things would finally be different.”

the memory flashes through your head. her saying maybe, giving you a chance, giving you hope.

”and then i watched you become friends with everybody except me.”

you close your eyes, because hearing it out loud sounds even worse. “that’s not what happened.”

“then what happened?”

you don’t answer immediately, because the truth is humiliating, but it’s still the truth.

“i was scared.”

choerry stares, then laughs, actually laughs. “of me?”

you wince. “that’s insane.”

“maybe.”

“no, not maybe.”

she throws her hands up. “you perform in front of eighty thousand people.”

“i know.”

“you’ve argued with executives.”

“i know.”

“you moved across the world.”

“i know.”

“but talking to me is too scary?” you don’t have an answer. because she’s right. it sounds ridiculous... yet somehow it’s true.

your voice comes out small. “you mattered the most.”

the room goes silent. choerry freezes and you continue before you lose your nerve. “that’s why.”

her expression falters, just for a second. “i could handle haseul being disappointed.”

your throat tightens. “i could handle heejin yelling at me.”

heejin immediately points. “i would’ve.”

nobody laughs.

you keep going. “i could handle kim lip making fun of me.”

“also true,” kim lip mutters.

still nobody laughs.

“but you...” your voice cracks. “if you hated me, i didn’t think i could survive hearing it.”

choerry just stares. completely still. for the first time since this started, she looks genuinely caught off guard, because that wasn’t the answer she expected, and maybe that’s the problem.

for years, both of you have been arguing with versions of each other that don’t exist anymore: the girl who thought she wasn't worth staying for. the girl who thought she had to leave everyone behind to survive. neither of them were telling the truth. but the damage they caused? that part was real.

choerry’s eyes shine. and when she speaks again, her voice is much quieter. “i don’t hate you.”

somehow those four words hurt more than everything else. because if she hated you, this would be easier. instead she looks devastated.

“ just don’t know how to trust you anymore.”

and for the first time during the entire argument, you realize that maybe this isn’t a fight you can win — it’s a wound, and wounds don’t disappear because somebody says sorry, they heal because somebody stays.

the door to your dorm room had barely clicked shut before choerry’s hands were all over you. the walk from the hallway felt like it took forever, but now that you were finally in the privacy of your own space, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

choerry had you backed up against the wood of the door, her body pressed firmly against yours. one of her hands was tangled in your soft hair, tilting your head back to expose the line of your throat, while the other was slid down to your waist, pulling your hips flush against hers. she looked up at you through her dark lashes, her eyes dark with a hunger that was almost primal.

“finally.” she breathed, her voice a husky rasp. she leaned in, her lips hovering just inches from yours, teasing you with the heat of her breath. “i’ve been thinking about getting you alone since we saw each other again after so, so long. you have no idea what you're doing to me, (y/n).”

she didn’t wait for an answer. she crashed her lips onto yours in a deep, demanding kiss, her tongue dancing with yours in a way that was both frantic and incredibly skilled. she tasted faintly of mint and the lingering sweetness of her lipgloss, and she moved with a confidence that made it clear she knew exactly how to take what she wanted.

choerry felt your response in the way you melted against her, and it only fueled her fire. she let out a low, satisfied moan into the kiss, deepening it as she felt your hands find her waist. she was a predator who had finally caught her prize, and she had no intention of being gentle.

she broke the kiss just long enough to trail a path of hot, biting kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck. she knew exactly where to nip and suck to leave marks that would remind you of her long after she left. her hands began to wander more restlessly, sliding under the hem of your shirt, her palms warm and slightly rough against your skin.

“you’re so soft…” she murmured against your skin, her breath hitching. she pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her gaze heavy lidded and dark with lust. her thumb traced your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“tell me what you want, (y/n).” she whispered, her voice a sultry command. she leaned in closer, her chest heaving against yours. “do you want me to take control, or do you want to show me exactly how much you’ve been wanting this?”

“show me how much you missed me.”

choerry let out a dark, throaty laugh, her eyes flashing with a dangerous sort of excitement. She loved a challenge, and she loved it even more when you gave her permission to be as uninhibited as she wanted to be.

“oh, baby... you have no idea.” she growled, her voice thick with desire. she didn’t just want to show you; she wanted to consume you.

without breaking eye contact, she scooped you up in her arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist. she carried you the short distance to your bed, tossing you onto the mattress before hovering over you, her body pinning yours down. she looked like a goddess of chaos, her hair messy and her eyes burning with a need that felt almost overwhelming.

she began to strip off her clothes with a frantic, practiced ease, her gaze never leaving yours. once she was close enough to feel the heat of your skin against hers, she lowered herself onto you, her movements heavy and intentional. she started to kiss you again, but this time it wasn’t just a tease it was a claim. her hands moved over your body with a feverish intensity, exploring every curve, every inch of your skin as if she were trying to memorize you through touch.

“i’m going to make sure you're thinking about me all night.” she whispered against your lips, her breath hot and ragged. she moved her hand down, her fingers tracing the line of your thigh, moving higher with a slow, torturous confidence. “i’m going to make you forget anyone else ever touched you.”

her fingers finally reached the edge of your underwear, hooking into the fabric to slide it down your legs. she didn’t rush, instead choosing to watch your expression, savoring the way your breath hitched and your hazy eyes darkened with anticipation. she leaned down, her lips brushing against the hollow of your collarbone as her hand moved more boldly, finding the heat between your thighs.

“you’re so ready for me, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice a low, vibrating hum against your skin. she began to use her fingers to tease and explore you, her touch expert and relentless. she knew exactly how much pressure to apply, how to move to make you arch your back and cry out her name. every moan that escaped your lips was like fuel to her fire, making her move with even more passion, her body working in perfect, hungry synchronicity with yours until the world outside your dorm room ceased to exist.

choerry was relentless. she watched your face with an intense, almost predatory focus, her eyes tracking every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features. she loved the way your soft hair fanned out against the pillows, contrasting with the soft skin of your body, and the way your pleading and hazy eyes seemed to glaze over with pure sensation.

as she worked her fingers, she increased the pace, her movements becoming more rhythmic and purposeful. she knew exactly how to hit the right spots, her touch alternating between soft, teasing strokes and firmer, more demanding pressure. she leaned down, her lips catching your moans, swallowing them whole as she pressed her body even tighter against yours, letting youfeel the heat and the hardness of her desire.

“that’s it... just like that.” she whispered, her voice a ragged, breathless command. she could feel you trembling beneath her, your muscles tensing as you neared the edge. the sound of your breathing, the way your fingers dug into her shoulders, the soft, broken sounds coming from your throat was driving her absolutely insane.

she didn’t let up. of anything, she pushed harder, her thumb working in tandem with her fingers to drive you toward the peak. she wanted to see you break; she wanted to be the one who caused it. she watched as your eyes rolled back and your body arched sharply, a beautiful, desperate movement of pure release.

as you finally shattered, a long, shaky breath escaping your lips, choerry let out a triumphant, low growl. she didn’t pull away immediately; instead, she collapsed against you, her skin slick with sweat, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your chest. she buried her face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in, her lips grazing your skin in a soft, possessive nuzzle.

“god, (y/n)....” she murmured, her voice heavy with satisfaction and a lingering, hungry heat. she lifted her head just enough to look at you, a lopsided, wicked smirk playing on her lips despite her heavy breathing. “we’re definitely not done yet. not even close.”

“ugh, we’re not, yerim. i missed you. so it’s my turn.”

choerry’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her face before it was instantly replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated lust. she let out a low, breathless laugh, her head falling back against the pillow as she watched you with newfound respect. she loved a girl who took charge, and the sheer confidence in your voice sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to her core.

“oh? is that so?” she purred, her voice dropping to a husky, dangerous register. she shifted her weight, moving back slightly to give you room, but she didn’t let you go entirely. instead, she reached down and gripped your hips, her fingers digging into your skin just enough to ground you as she guided you down the bed.

she lay back, her dark hair messy against the sheets, her legs parting instinctively for you. she looked completely undone her skin flushed, her chest heaving, and her eyes dark and heavy with anticipation. she looked like a queen offering herself up to her most devoted subject, but with that signature choerry smirk, it was clear she was the one in control of the pleasure.

“don’t hold back, gorgeous.” she challenged, her voice a sultry rasp. she reached down, her hands sliding from your hips to your hair, her fingers tangling in the messy strands to guide you. she arched her back slightly, presenting herself to you, her gaze intense and unwavering.

“show me exactly how much you want me. make me lose my mind…” she let out a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering shut as she waited for the first touch of your lips, her body already trembling in expectation of the sensation you were about to provide.

as you leaned down, the first touch of your lips against her most sensitive skin sent a violent jolt through her entire frame. choerry’s hips bucked upward instinctively, a sharp, choked gasp escaping her throat. her fingers tightened convulsively in your messy hair, not to pull you away, but to hold you there, anchoring herself as the sensation began to overwhelm her.

she was a girl who usually loved being the one in control, the one doing the teasing, but as you began to use your tongue with a confident, rhythmic precision, she found herself completely at your mercy. she let out a long, low moan that vibrated through her whole body, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow as she lost herself in the feeling. every time you swirled your tongue or applied a little more suction, a fresh wave of heat crashed over her, making her toes curl and her breath come in ragged, desperate hitches.

“fuck, (y/n)....” she groaned, her voice breaking. Her eyes snapped open for a moment, hazy and glazed with pure ecstasy, watching you work. the sight of your messy hair falling around her thighs as you focused so intently on her was almost too much to bear. she felt her muscles tensing, her core tightening as you drove her closer and closer to the edge.

choerry’s breathing became frantic, her chest heaving as she neared her breaking point. she was no longer the cool, composed bad girl from the hallways; she was a mess of sensation, her body trembling uncontrollably under your touch. she gripped your hair tighter, her knuckles turning white, as she felt the pressure building deep inside her, a tidal wave of pleasure ready to burst.

“don’t stop... please, don’t you dare stop… she whimpered, her voice a desperate, sultry plea as she felt herself teetering on the very brink of a massive, soul shaking climax.

she let out a broken, high pitched cry as the dam finally burst. her entire body stiffened, her hips jerking upward in a desperate, rhythmic search for more of you. every muscle in her legs tensed, and her fingers clutched at your hair so tightly it was almost a bruise, but she didn’t care. the sensation was overwhelming, a white hot explosion of pleasure that seemed to radiate from her core to the very tips of her toes.

choerry’s head thrashed against the pillow, her eyes rolling back as she surrendered completely to the waves of ecstasy you were pulling from her. she was shaking, her breath coming in short, jagged sobs of pure bliss. the world narrowed down to just the feeling of your mouth, the heat of your tongue, and the incredible, dizzying sensation of her own release.

as the climax finally began to ebb, leaving her limp and trembling, she let out a long, shaky exhale, her body sinking deep into the mattress. she looked utterly spent, her skin glistening with sweat and her dark eyes hooded and dazed. she reached down, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed a stray lock of soft hair away from your face, her touch uncharacteristically tender.