- TRAILER & MASTERLIST

Parings:

Hollywood.model!reader(f) x Bodyguard!seungcheol

Synopsis | Character description below the cute

(🏐) SALT & FOAM .. い葉 hard thoughts

𝓘N WHICH 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝘂𝘁𝘆 , 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇'𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎

⠀ɑ︭ : @luvsicktyun put this in my inbox. that's my taehyun brainrot buddy >.< LIFEGUARD TYUN? yum yum yum. this is literally my first hard thought so i'm still learning the ropes, but hopefully this one works! i keep wanting to write in-scene but idk if that works as well for hard thoughts. oh well! here we go hehe

The sun is no joke, beating down on Taehyun with a vengeance. He might as well just begin melting over his big red seat; something like ice cream down a cone. It’s already hard enough to watch the foamy shorelines for beachgoers—he’s been out there for hours.

But you? You had to go and make his job harder, didn’t you?

say it — choi seungcheol

ABOUT.

you’re back from college, and seungcheol starts to realise you’re no longer the bratty little 18 year old anymore — and has trouble accepting that he’s not protective of you just because he thinks of himself as an ‘older brother figure’ in your life.

PAIRING.

seungcheol x reader (fem)

TAGS/WARNINGS.

rich!seungcheol and rich!reader, age gap (cheol is older by 6 years), childhood friend! cheol, smut with plot, mentions of older brother mingyu (reader), cheol suffers from jealousy! denial! possessiveness! friends to lovers au <3 one-sided pining!

ׂ╰┈➤ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS. ⭐️

rich!seungcheol and rich!reader, older brother mingyu, wonwoo x reader, age gap, alcohol consumption, cheol may seem slightly controlling 😕 not much gg on yet BUT! slow tension building!

ׂ╰┈➤ series masterlist

i. red lips and red wine

silly texts with bodyguard wonwoo

⠀⠀[⠀谷. ) KISS ME ⟡ WHEN YOU REFUSE THEIR KISSES

𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 𖹭 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗄𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍

"baby," heeseung whines, leaning in again, lips already puckered. "just one. a tiny one."

you tilt your head back, dodging effortlessly. "i just finished my makeup, hee."

he huffs, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into him. "so?" his breath is warm against your cheek as he nuzzles in, pressing teasing kisses along your jaw, stopping just short of your lips.

"so, you'll ruin it," you murmur, stubborn but faltering.

heeseung chuckles, low and sweet, before dipping down, stealing a lingering kiss anyway. "worth it," he mumbles against your lips, hands tightening their grip.

you groan, pushing at his chest. "heeseung—"

"shh," he grins, stealing another. "my baby’s too pretty not to kiss."

#227

Mingyu: What is life?

Wonwoo: A series of unfortunate events that lead to your death

Seungcheol: Wonwoo, my child...

Vernon: Sounds lively

Seungcheol: VERNON, MY CHILD-

Kiss Me, He’s Watching

fake bf!Heeseung x being stalked!reader - You kissed Heeseung to escape your stalker’s gaze—but the danger didn’t end there. One fake kiss, and suddenly everything is terrifyingly real.

Warnings: stalking, fear, explicit smut, possessive dynamics

-

The fluorescent lights of the subway car flicker overhead, casting an unflattering glow across the half-empty train. It's later than you'd usually be out on a weeknight, but your coworker's birthday drinks ran longer than expected. You check your phone: 11:43 PM. Only three more stops until home.

That's when you feel it—the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

You glance up from your phone, trying to appear casual as your eyes scan the car. And there he is. Third seat from the door. A man in his thirties, wearing a dark jacket despite the warm spring evening, staring directly at you. When your eyes meet, he doesn't look away. Instead, his lips curl into what might be considered a smile, if it weren't so utterly devoid of warmth.

You quickly look back down at your phone, heart rate accelerating. It's nothing, you tell yourself. Just another weird encounter in the city.

get them for your gam3 bo1 today!

─── DAISUKI

⟡ ┆pairing: nishimura riki x fem! reader

⟡ ┆genre: fluff, established relationship, humour

⟡ ┆word count: 1.0k

⟡ ┆note:  just wanted to say that i don’t know japanese, so if the translations aren’t accurate, pls lmk.

“kuso.” riki mutters under his breath, causing you to turn your head toward him.

𝑨𝑭𝑲  /  𝑳𝑬𝑬  𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑮

Heeseung was completely immersed in his game, fingers clicking furiously on his keyboard, his eyes locked on the screen, and his voice filled with frustration as he barked at his teammates through the mic.

"Bro, Jake! what are you doing?! I literally said to cover me!" he groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned forward, determination radiating off of him.

Brought The Heat Back

─── : ̗̀➛ SUMMARY: Your monotonous routine takes an unexpected turn when a mysterious pink-haired boy and his fast red car cross your path.

⭑.ᐟ ⇢ ˗ˏˋLEE HEESEUNG (이희승) X READER࿐ྂ I ( wc 5573) racer!heeseung teasing romance fluff/cute content suggestive content

The night shift at the café wasn’t your favorite, yet it was the one you were most often assigned to—unfortunately.

Not only did you have to deal with rude customers in the afternoon, but you also had to clean up the mess they left behind and make sure everything was spotless so the morning shift could open without a hitch. All they had to do was unlock the doors; everything would already be in its place, thanks to you.

Your two other coworkers would leave the moment they saw no more customers coming in, abandoning you completely alone.

As you scrubbed the wooden tables, wiping away stubborn coffee stains, you glanced through the café’s large windows.

The wide, gloomy avenue where the café was located was dimly lit by scattered streetlights. A few people hurried down the sidewalks, eager to get home after a long workday, most likely to be greeted warmly by their families.

Having a family was what you envied most about others. After your long shifts, no one was waiting for you at home with a steaming homemade meal or a comforting embrace.

The closest thing you had to family was a dog you had adopted a few months ago. You had found him wandering the streets one night on your way home from work. The poor thing had been filthy and terrified, but he quickly warmed up to you, always showing immense gratitude.

The little furball would greet you with overwhelming excitement, wagging his tail and rolling onto his back for belly rubs. After that, he’d dash to his food bowl, demanding dinner. No matter how tough your day had been, he always managed to bring a smile to your face.

The café was finally spotless—tables gleamed, floors shone, coffee supplies were neatly organized, machines were spotless and dry, disposable cups were stacked in a corner, and the cash register was securely closed.

The café’s lights flickered off behind you as you quickly locked the door, not forgetting to set the alarm. Adjusting your bag strap over your shoulder, you stepped onto the deserted avenue, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

You kept your eyes fixed on the ground, clutching your bag tightly, until a thunderous noise shattered the night’s silence. A powerful engine roar rumbled from the top of the street, making you snap your head up.

Two sports cars tore through the empty avenue at a reckless speed. One was black, the other red, both gliding like shadows under the streetlights. From the red car, deafening music blasted, shaking the windows of the parked cars around.

Suddenly, the driver of the red car turned his head slightly toward you and, without slowing down, called out with an exhilarated laugh:

“Hey, gorgeous!”

His voice, dripping with adrenaline, was swallowed by the roar of the engine and the pounding music as his car sped down the street. You didn’t even have time to react—just a split second to process what had happened before both cars vanished into the distance, leaving behind the lingering echoes of their engines and the sharp scent of burnt rubber.

The street fell back into an eerie silence, as if nothing had happened. Yet, your heart was still racing.

You hadn’t managed to see the face of the bold stranger who had shouted at you. The only thing you caught was a flash of bright pink hair—an unusual color for someone to have.

When you finally reached your apartment, tiny barks greeted you, filled with boundless joy. Your home, bathed in nighttime darkness, felt quieter than ever.

You weren’t in the mood to cook anything at that hour, so you scooped up little Coco in your arms and carried him to your room, placing him on your bed. He curled into a ball almost instantly.

Heading to the bathroom, you gently removed your makeup with a cotton pad, careful not to irritate your eyes. Your nighttime routine was always the same—remove makeup, brush your teeth, do your skincare, and go to bed with your loyal companion.

Your days were always the same, monotonous and repetitive. The only thing that changed was the customers you served at the café. But at the end of the day, the only one who was truly there for you was Coco.

Another day at the café, filled with rude customers—though some weren’t so bad. It was around five-thirty in the afternoon, and today, you were behind the counter preparing coffee instead of working the cash register, where people would toss their money at you as if they couldn’t care less. Or worse, those who, after you patiently explained five times that what they were asking for wasn’t on the menu, would get angry and start yelling at you, as if it were somehow your fault—all while you were just a simple employee.

You sighed in frustration as you finished making a macchiato to go, carefully placing the lid on the white disposable cup to prevent any spills. Then, you walked over to the pickup counter, where a few customers were waiting.

“Heeseung?” you called out, reading the name written on the cup. You set it down on the counter and reached under it to grab two small sugar packets, placing them next to the coffee.

“That’s me, thanks” a man’s voice responded in front of you. He took his order along with the sugar packets, and you went back to work without paying him much attention.

But then, the same voice called out to you again from behind.

“Could I get another sugar packet?” the guy asked.

You didn’t respond, simply grabbed another packet along with a small wooden stir stick—which you had forgotten to give him earlier—so he could mix the sugar into his coffee.

As you returned to the pickup counter, you extended your hand toward him, lifting your gaze in the process.

Standing in front of you was a guy around your age, or maybe a few years older. His eyes were framed by smudged black eyeliner, as if he had rubbed them to blend it out. He was handsome, with striking facial features and a tall frame—but what stood out the most was his hair.

His hair was pink.

In your twenty years of living in the city, you had never seen anyone with that hair color before. And if someone had it, they definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed.

It didn’t take much to put two and two together—this had to be the same guy who had sped past you in his red car last night, shouting “gorgeous” as he disappeared down the avenue.

It was also pretty obvious that he had only called out to you because he was bold and reckless. He didn’t seem to recognize you—or maybe he just didn’t care. But that was unlikely, considering how dark it had been last night and how fast he had been driving. There was no way he could have actually seen your face.

At least now, the shameless guy had both a face and a name—Heeseung.

The rest of the afternoon at the café wasn’t as hectic as usual. The usual rush had its moments, but nothing too overwhelming. You had managed to keep up with the orders without too many customers being unnecessarily rude or impatient. That alone felt like a small victory.

That was until one particular incident disrupted the relative peace.

You were wiping down the counter when a loud clatter startled you. You snapped your head in the direction of the noise just in time to see a customer stumbling back, their coffee splattered all over the floor. The disposable cup rolled across the tiles, leaving a messy trail of liquid in its wake.

The man—who had been too distracted looking at his phone—had walked straight into the edge of a table, making the hot coffee spill all over his shirt and the floor beneath him.

"Shit" he hissed, shaking his hands as if that would somehow undo the damage.

You quickly grabbed a mop and a roll of paper towels, already dreading the cleanup.

"Are you okay, sir?" you asked, glancing at his soaked shirt.

His frustration was evident, though he seemed more annoyed than in pain. "No, I’m not! Look at this mess!" he barked, gesturing at his ruined shirt as if it were somehow your fault.

You suppressed a sigh and forced a polite smile. "I can get you some napkins. There’s also a restroom right over there if you need to clean up."

But instead of appreciating the help, he scoffed. "That’s not what I need! I need a new coffee. For free."

You blinked. "Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t give out free replacements unless it was a mistake on our end."

"It wasn’t my fault!" he snapped. "That table was in the way!"

You clenched your jaw. The table had been there all day, unmoved. It wasn’t as if it had suddenly appeared out of nowhere just to trip him up. But you knew better than to argue with a customer like this.

"I’m really sorry, but I can’t do that" you repeated, keeping your voice steady.

His face twisted in anger. "This is bullshit. You should at least take responsibility. What kind of place is this?"

At this point, a few customers were glancing over, their curiosity piqued by the commotion. Your patience was wearing thin, but you still tried to remain professional. "If you’d like, I can offer you a discount on a new drink" you suggested, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

But he scoffed again, shaking his head. "Forget it" he muttered, throwing the soaked napkins onto the table before storming out of the café.

You exhaled slowly, gripping the mop handle a little too tightly.

After cleaning up the mess—both the spilled coffee and the lingering tension from the encounter—you focused on finishing your shift. The rest of the evening went by without much trouble. You wiped down the counters, stacked the cups, ensured all the machines were cleaned and powered down, and finally locked up the café.

But the frustration still clung to you like a second skin.

Instead of heading straight home, you made a sudden decision.

You needed a drink.

A real drink.

So, instead of walking in the usual direction toward your apartment, you turned down a different street, heading toward a bar you had passed by countless times but had never actually stepped into.

The neon sign above the entrance flickered slightly, casting a soft glow on the pavement. The hum of music seeped through the walls, promising a temporary escape from reality.

As you pushed the door open, you were greeted by the low buzz of conversations, the occasional clink of glasses, and the faint scent of liquor and citrus. The atmosphere was a mix of lively and relaxed—exactly what you needed.

You slid onto a barstool and exhaled, finally allowing yourself to let go of the stress from earlier.

A bartender, a woman with short dark hair and a knowing smile, approached. "Rough day?" she asked, wiping down the counter in front of you.

"You have no idea," you muttered, resting your elbows on the bar.

She chuckled. "Well, in that case, what’ll it be?"

You thought for a moment before deciding. "Something strong."

The bartender nodded in understanding. "Coming right up."

As you waited for your drink, you let yourself relax for the first time that evening. The café, the rude customer, the endless routine of your days—it all felt distant now, drowned out by the steady rhythm of the music and the comforting anonymity of the bar.

For once, you weren’t just the tired barista at the café.

You were just another person in a bar, looking for a moment of peace.

Peace that was quickly interrupted by a guy who sat on the barstool beside you. He watched you from above as you took a sip of the drink the short-haired girl had prepared for you—a strong yet sweet mix that spread over your tongue and left its warmth down your throat.

"I heard you had a bad day," the guy beside you started what seemed to be a friendly conversation. Not that you really cared. You had come here to unwind and leave the day behind, not with the intention of going home with company for an even better time. But there was no harm in talking to someone who, for the first time in days, actually seemed nice to you.

"Yeah, working in a café isn’t as easy as it sounds, no matter how silly that may seem" you replied, your gaze fixed on your hand as you swirled your glass in slow circles, watching the liquid move along with it.

"I worked in one once. Quit after a month" the guy said, his rough voice carrying an amused tone. You found it funny, letting out a small chuckle, almost like a huff.

"And what do you do now?" you asked, finally lifting your eyes to look at him.

The guy in front of you had an imposing presence, nearly impossible to ignore. His straight black hair, slightly messy, framed his sharp features and intense eyes that seemed almost hypnotic. His pale skin contrasted against his dark and rebellious style, further enhancing his aura of danger and mystery.

One detail stood out in particular: a piercing on his eyebrow, a small metallic ring gleaming under the dim bar lights, adding an extra bold touch to his look.

His outfit was just as striking. He wore a sleeveless black leather jacket, adorned with patches and bold lettering, including a noticeable tag with white text and the name of a well-known brand. Underneath, he had on a black graphic T-shirt with sharp, jagged lettering and prints that screamed rock or metal culture.

He leaned against the bar, resting both elbows on the surface, tilting slightly toward you as if what he was about to say was a secret meant only for the two of you.

"I take part in illegal street races" he whispered, a smirk curling onto his pale lips, his eyes narrowing slightly with amusement.

Your expression must have been entertaining to him because, suddenly, he let out a deep, rich laugh, pulling back to his original position, still grinning.

"I don't believe you, you're playing with me," was your response to his laughter. The guy was definitely messing with you. The city was quiet, and you had never heard of these races. Although, it made sense that you hadn’t since they were illegal, meaning no one openly talked about them if they were involved.

"You really don't believe me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and looking in your direction with an amused expression.

You quickly shook your head, finishing the last of your drink and placing the glass back on the bar.

"I'm going to show you, then." His tone was challenging, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he was enjoying the idea of proving you wrong.

"You'll have to get up, sweetheart," he added with a half-smile as he stood up and grabbed his keys from his jacket.

You stared at him for a few seconds, evaluating whether following him was really a good idea. You didn’t know him, and the last thing you wanted was to end up in a compromising situation. However, there was something about his attitude, the confidence with which he carried himself, that made you feel he wasn’t just showing off.

And before you knew it, you had already left your stool and were standing in front of him. You rolled your eyes—more at yourself than at him—and let out a sigh before grabbing your bag.

Outside, the night air had cooled since you arrived, and the streets were quiet, with only a few people walking along the sidewalk and the occasional car passing by. The guy pulled a small remote from his pocket and pressed a button.

A few meters away, a black car with white details lit up as its headlights flashed and let out a soft beep. This wasn’t just any car. Its aggressive design, rear spoiler, and aerodynamic features made it clear that it was built for speed.

"Get in," he said, opening the passenger door for you, his hand resting on the frame, effectively trapping you between his body and the car.

"Do you seriously expect me to just get in like that?" you looked up at him, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze. The guy was nearly a head taller than you.

"If you really wanted to leave, you would've done it already," he replied with a shrug, a smug smile spreading across his face.

You didn’t have a good comeback for that. So, with one last sigh, you got into the car, immediately noticing the scent of leather and gasoline mixed with a faint hint of his cologne.

When he settled into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine, a deep roar filled the air, vibrating through your chest. He glanced at you with a knowing look before stepping on the accelerator.

They sped down the street like lightning, the guy clearly intending to give you a taste of what a real race felt like. With your eyes wide open from the fear of crashing into another car, you turned to look at him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the road, a wide smirk on his face.

With your right hand, you gripped the car door tightly, fearing for your life—and, even though you didn’t know him, for your companion’s life as well. The slight buzz from the alcohol had completely left your system the moment the car took off, replaced by a mix of euphoria, adrenaline, and fear.

"I'm going to die at the hands of someone whose name I don’t even know," you shouted over the deafening roar of the engine, faking a melodramatic sob while keeping a tight grip on the handle and your eyes glued to the road ahead.

"You're not going to die, idiot," the guy replied beside you, letting out a scoff, as if your lack of trust in him—a total stranger, mind you—actually offended him. "And my name is NIKI."

The roar of the engine and the speed at which the car glided through the streets made your heart pound wildly. Niki seemed completely in his element, his hands steady on the wheel and an almost exhilarated look in his eyes as he drove.

With every sharp turn and acceleration, the city faded away. The concrete buildings and neon lights disappeared, replaced by darker roads surrounded by trees and empty lots. You realized he was heading toward the outskirts, far from any busy area.

Finally, after several minutes of intense driving, the road opened up into a wide clearing. The lights of other cars illuminated the area, and the sound of engines roaring filled the air. You had arrived at the underground racing meetup Niki had mentioned.

The place was packed with people. Some were gathered in groups, chatting and laughing, while others were checking their cars, making last-minute adjustments before the next race. The atmosphere was electric, charged with anticipation and adrenaline.

Niki parked his car in one of the rows and turned off the engine. He turned to you with an amused smile.

"See? You didn’t die," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, adjusting his jacket as he glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh, though deep down, you couldn’t ignore the thrill you felt.

"What now?" you asked, looking around through the tinted windows of the car.

"Now, we have even more fun," he replied, stepping out.

You got out cautiously, immediately feeling the curious stares of some people on you. It wasn’t hard to tell you were new here—everyone seemed to know each other.

You walked beside Niki as he greeted several people with nods and smirks. Apparently, he was well-known in this scene. As you followed him, your eyes scanned the area, taking in every car and person within sight.

At one point, your gaze landed on a familiar figure just a few meters away.

Your heart did a small flip as you recognized him. He was leaning against a red car, arms crossed over his chest, looking relaxed. He wore a leather jacket and dark jeans with some hand-drawn and painted designs, his pinkish hair slightly tousled by the wind.

There, just a few meters away from you, was Heeseung. It seemed like fate had suddenly placed him in your orbit, making you run into him everywhere.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, you saw one of his eyebrows lift slightly, as if surprised to see you there, as if he somehow recognized you.

Niki noticed the interaction and let out a low chuckle.

"Well, well, looks like you already know someone here," he remarked, slightly surprised, after finishing his conversation with a blond-haired guy.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you kept watching Heeseung as he finally pushed himself off the car—his, apparently—and started walking toward you.

When he got close enough, he tilted his head slightly and gave you a small smirk.

"I think I know you, and yet, I’ve never seen you here before" he said playfully, looking down at you with a slight tilt of his head.

"I served you your coffee today" you replied with a polite smile subtly drawn on your face.

Niki looked between the two of you with a knowing smile.

"So, this is the café you were complaining about a few hours ago?" Niki stood beside you, crossing his arms and running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, receiving a nod from you in response.

Heeseung kept his gaze on you for a few seconds before shifting his attention to Niki.

"Did you bring her here?" his eyes flicked to the black-haired boy beside you, one of his eyebrows arching slightly in question.

"Isn't it obvious, man?" Niki responded incredulously, draping one arm over your shoulders and pulling you close to him.

The unexpected gesture made your cheeks automatically flush red. The guy didn't even know you, yet he was hugging you so confidently that it was overwhelming. Was he… trying to mark his territory?

Heeseung let out a small chuckle before shaking his head slightly. Then, he looked at you once more, as if evaluating your reaction to everything that was happening.

"What was your name again?" Niki asked for the first time that night. You looked at him with obvious disbelief and removed his arm from your shoulders.

"My name is Y/N. It's the first time you’re actually asking" you responded to the boy. The pink-haired guy let out a laugh, drawing both of your attention to him.

"The race is about to start in a few minutes. I hope you don't chicken out this time since you have a guest" Heeseung glanced at you briefly with a nod.

Just when the tension between the three of you seemed to rise, a blaring sound shattered the atmosphere.

The echo of police sirens rang through the air, and as if someone had flipped a switch, chaos erupted.

Red and blue lights flashed between the cars, reflecting off the sleek paint of every parked vehicle. The crowd panicked; some ran to their cars to flee, while others simply disappeared into the darkness of the night. Shouts, roaring engines, and screeching tires blended together, turning the scene into utter disorder.

Niki, who had seemed so confident and relaxed just moments ago, cursed under his breath and, without thinking twice, bolted, disappearing into the chaos without even glancing back at you.

"Are you serious?!" you exclaimed, stunned to see him vanish just like that.

Before you could move, you felt a firm hand wrap around your wrist.

"Come with me, Y/N!"

Heeseung’s tone left no room for hesitation. He pulled you with force, guiding you through the crowd with surprising precision, dodging people who were running in all directions. Your heart pounded wildly, both from the adrenaline and the uncertainty of not knowing where he was taking you.

Without letting go of your wrist for a second, Heeseung led you straight to his car—an elegant, flashy red vehicle that looked built for speed.

"Get in!" he ordered, already settling into the driver’s seat and starting the engine with a deafening roar.

You didn’t have time to hesitate. As soon as you jumped into the passenger seat and shut the door, the car shot forward at full speed, leaving behind the noise and sirens.

The wind whipped against your face as the nighttime scenery blurred into streaks of colorful lights. Heeseung drove with mastery, weaving through streets and taking sharp turns with impressive precision.

"Do you always do this?" you managed to ask, your breath still uneven.

Heeseung let out a short laugh, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Escaping? It doesn't happen too often, but sometimes we have to switch spots when we get caught" he explained, clearly referring to the police. His gaze remained fixed on the road, hands gripping the wheel tightly from the tension of the situation.

His words lingered in the air as the two of you drove further from the chaos, the city stretching out before you like an endless, lawless playground.

Silence filled the confined space of Heeseung’s racing car. Now that you were back in the city, he had slowed down, though at this hour, the streets were practically deserted. The pink-haired boy, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the rush, was focused on navigating different streets while you stared out the window at the towering buildings.

"Where are we going, Heeseung?" you murmured, exhaustion creeping into your voice. It was late, and whatever little alcohol you had consumed had long since faded from your system.

"For some food. I feel bad that Niki dragged you into this, so it's on me."

"It's really not necessary. Don't worry about me" you said, turning to look at him. Your gaze met his, catching him already glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His dark, lined eyes made him look even more alluring in that moment.

Heeseung didn’t reply and simply kept driving. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a small convenience store that, except for the employee working inside, was completely empty.

Walking through the aisles of the tiny store, you reluctantly grabbed a pink-packaged ramen and a bottle of water. After picking up your drink from the fridge, you turned to find Heeseung—only to see him holding an absurd amount of snacks: several bags of chips, an instant ramen bowl, a cup of ice, and an energy drink.

You laughed at the sight before you. The guy, who had such a sexy aura, looked so endearing and almost vulnerable in that moment, standing in the middle of a convenience store.

After insisting for a while that he would pay for everything, you both took a seat at the small tables near the window. Your steaming bowls of ramen sat on the table as you ate in comfortable silence, both lost in thought about how the night had led you to this moment.

"Do you wanna try?" Heeseung’s question caught you off guard, pulling you out of your thoughts.

The boy held a bit of his ramen between his wooden chopsticks, carefully bringing it close to you, gently blowing on it to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

You stared at him for a moment before leaning in, slowly bringing your lips toward the food he was offering. The warmth of the ramen filled the air, and there was a tenderness in his gesture that you hadn’t expected from someone who, just hours ago, had been racing through the streets, evading the police.

Parting your lips slightly, you took the bite, letting the intense flavors fill your mouth. It was delicious, but beyond that, what made your heart race was the way Heeseung was watching you.

His gaze remained locked on you, his eyes shining with amusement but also curiosity, as if he was trying to figure out your every reaction.

"Well?" he asked with a small smile, tilting his head.

"It’s really good" you said after swallowing, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly.

Heeseung grinned, satisfied, and took another bite of his ramen, acting as if the moment held no particular significance. Yet, the subtle tension between you lingered in the air, almost tangible.

For a while longer, you both ate in silence, savoring the calm that followed the storm of emotions you had just experienced.

"Actually, the night was kinda fun" you suddenly broke the silence, finishing another bite of your ramen. "I wouldn’t mind if it lasted a little longer" you confessed unexpectedly.

Heeseung froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. With his cheeks still full of ramen, he swallowed quickly before responding.

"You… can come to my place if you want" he said, sounding a little nervous.

The air between you shifted again. Heeseung looked away for a moment, as if realizing the weight of his words only after saying them out loud.

You, on the other hand, watched him with a mix of amusement and intrigue. You hadn’t expected him to get nervous—not after how he had acted the entire night.

"Do you want me to?" you asked with a small smile, testing the waters.

Heeseung cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "Only if you want to" he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you studied him for a few seconds before taking one last sip of your ramen. Then, setting the empty cup down on the table, you stood up.

He quickly finished his ramen, almost choking in the process, and both of you left the store, heading back to his car and soon to his home.

The boy beside you entered his apartment, which was located a bit far from the city's central area since that neighborhood was one of the most expensive. His home wasn’t too far from the convenience store they had just been at; in fact, Heeseung admitted that he regularly went there because he wasn’t much of a cook.

His apartment had a modern and minimalist style. It was a spacious studio with a small yet cozy kitchen. In the living area, there was a desk with a gaming computer, and beside it, a bookshelf filled with action figures and books.

A large, sleek gray couch framed the living space, facing a mounted LED TV with LED lights decorating its surroundings. On the coffee table, there was an empty bowl of ramen and a magazine about racing cars and engines.

As you took in every corner of his apartment, Heeseung shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall over the back of the couch. Then, he turned toward you with an amused smile.

"Do you like it?" he asked, referring to his home.

"Surprisingly neat for someone who eats ramen every night" you replied with a teasing smile, earning a chuckle from him.

"Well, it’s not like I get many visitors" he commented, slipping his hands into his pockets while looking at you intently.

The atmosphere felt different now. The adrenaline from the night had faded, and the silence that surrounded you both seemed charged with something else. Something electric.

You bit your lip and shifted your gaze toward the bookshelf full of action figures. To ease the nervousness, you walked over to browse, running your fingers along the spines of the books.

"Are you more into reading or gaming?" you asked without turning around.

"It depends. When I need to disconnect, video games. But when I want to completely lose myself, I prefer a good book" he confessed, his voice much closer than you expected.

When you turned around, Heeseung was standing right behind you—close enough that you could feel his breath. Your heart skipped a beat.

"And now… what do you want to do?" he asked in a whisper, his dark eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

It was obvious where this was going. You dared to lift your hand and gently brush against his slightly exposed collarbone, feeling his warm, smooth skin beneath your touch.

"I think that…" you started to say, but your voice trailed off as Heeseung closed the space between you.

His lips met yours softly at first, as if giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to.

You responded to the kiss with the same urgency, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands firmly settled on your waist, trapping you. Your back was pressed against the bookshelf, your chest against his.

The warmth of his body, the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, the way his breath became erratic against your skin… everything made you lose track of time.

No one would have ever believed that the night would end like this—kissing the bold guy who had shouted a compliment at you while speeding past in his car.

In the end, it seemed that someone with pink hair would bring excitement back into your life.

CUMMING OF AGE

You’ve always had a hate-hate relationship with masturbation.

Not the “haha I don’t know what I’m doing” kind. Not the shy, innocent kind. The kind where you tried, over and over again, and every time it ended in that same aching, pathetic way—panties soaked, fingers numb, pussy throbbing, and absolutely nothing to show for it.

No finish. No orgasm. Not even a fucking twitch of satisfaction.

You rubbed and rubbed, like everyone said to. You found your clit. You circled it. Pressed it. Flicked it. Tried soft and slow, then fast and desperate. Tried with spit, with lotion, with fucking coconut oil once. But nothing ever felt right. Just this frustrating hum of almost. Like your body was teetering on the edge of something big and just… refused to jump.

You’d end up sore. Agitated. Your legs would shake, but not the good kind. Your pussy would swell, throbbing like she was mocking you for trying.

Hey! He's Mine!

Synopsis: Sometimes, you have to wonder if your boyfriend is really yours. With Seungcheol constantly hogging him (and lowkey being obsessed with him), fighting for Jeonghan's attention has become part of your daily routine. But you're not one to back down—if Seungcheol wants him, he'll have to pry Jeonghan from your cold, dead hands (and honestly, don't be surprised if he actually does).

Pairing: Jeonghan x afab!reader, Seungcheol x afab!reader (platonically!)

Genre: fluff, crack, established relationship

Rating: sfw

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Seungcheol and yn bicker a lot but they have a sibling dynamic so it's all good fun, Jeonghan menacery, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it anonie!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

"i don't think you're supposed to cut it like that", minghao says, biting back a laugh.

you groan, dropping the knife and looking at the carrots in front of you.

"how should i do it then?"

cooking dates has never been a thing between the two of you. when he cooks, he cooks alone while you're either reading him a book or something; when you cook, you cook alone while he's either telling you about a childhood memory or something funny that happened in his last trip.

minghao pointed that out and suggested to experience cooking together, and now- well, now you're here.

he laughs once again, getting behind you and grabbing the knife you were holding.

"smaller pieces will make it more crunchy, and it will look better once it's finished", he gently explains, cutting the vegetable. you're frozen in place, but not in a bad way - your body is trapped between the counter and minghao's body. his arms are on each side of you, and you have to remind yourself not to just melt and rest your back on his chest.

he probably thinks the same thing, because he gets just a bit closer, his tall figure hovering you from behind.

"see?"

minghao kiss your shoulder, offering you the knife.

"i can't never cook with you again."

"why? i'm not that exigent, mingyu is way worse", he jokes.

"i bet he doesn't kiss his partner while cooking."

minghao chuckles, kissing your shoulder once again - and then your neck, and then your jaw.

"no, that's just me."

"oh, poor me then, to have to pull up with your antics...", you joke.

"poor you", he fakes a pout, laughing when you crack and smile at him too.

have you considered tipping me? | ko-fi

Title: Solo Adventure

Masterlist

It had been a month since the New York disaster, and Seungcheol wasn’t messing around anymore. The two-month dorm-cleaning punishment was in full swing—Yn, Dino, Vernon, and Seungkwan were still scrubbing floors and wrestling with laundry piles—but the leader had zeroed in on the real troublemaker: YN. The boys? They were just her reluctant sidekicks, dragged along out of worry or sheer inability to say no. So, Seungcheol grounded her—and her alone—with a curfew tighter than a drum.

“7 PM, YN,” he’d declared, arms crossed like a stern dad. “You don’t leave the dorm after that unless it’s for work, with a member, or a family member’s dragging you out. That’s your punishment.”

Her parents, who’d known Seungcheol since yn was a squalling baby, were fully on board. Over a crackly phone call from their vacation abroad, her mom had chimed in, “Make it 6 PM, Seungcheol-ah! She’s been stressing us out since she could walk. Teach her a lesson!” Her dad had just laughed in the background, muttering, “Good luck, kid.”

The members tried to keep her entertained—board games, impromptu dance-offs, even letting her direct a ridiculous dorm “movie” where Hoshi played a tiger and Mingyu was a damsel in distress. “We’re not letting you sneak out again,” Joshua had said, tossing her a controller for a video game. “You’re a menace when you’re bored.”

But yn? Boredom was her kryptonite. She could handle the cleaning—grumbling through it with dramatic flair, like when she’d “accidentally” dumped a bucket of soapy water on Vernon’s head—but the curfew? The isolation? It was torture. Seungcheol even banned late nights, insisting she sleep by 11 PM. “You stay up late, you get wild ideas,” he’d said, eyeing her like she might tunnel out with a spoon.

For a month, she’d sulked, stomping around the dorm, ignoring Seungcheol’s every command with the petulance of a grounded teenager. “Two months of cleaning for all of us, but I’m the only one locked up like a criminal?!” she’d whined to anyone who’d listen. “This is unfair! Dino was there! Vernon too! Seungkwan’s got lungs—why not ground him for screaming Coups’ name in New York?!”

“Because you’re the mastermind,” Jeonghan had teased, flicking her forehead. “They’re just your minions.”

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

One fateful night, a month into her sentence, it all came to a head. It was a rare day off, and with her parents out of the country, yn had been cooped up in the dorm all day. No schedules, no outings, just her and the four walls of her room. She felt like a caged lion—or maybe a hyperactive hamster, pacing and plotting. By midnight, she was sprawled on her bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling with a scowl that could curdle milk.

“This is prison,” she muttered, kicking her blankets off dramatically. “A death sentence! I’m 18, not 80! My feet are itching—they’re screaming to run free!” She flopped onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow and fake-sobbing loud enough to wake the dead—except no one came running, because the dorm was silent, everyone else blissfully asleep.

She sat up, eyes glinting with rebellion. “That’s it. I’m done. Curfew? Psh. Grounding? Overrated. I’m sneaking out—solo mission!” She grinned, the thrill of defiance bubbling up like soda in a shaken can. “Let’s see what chaos I can stir up tonight.”

Tiptoeing out of her room, she moved like a ninja—or at least, her version of one, which involved a lot of exaggerated crouching and humming spy music under her breath. “Duh-nuh-nuh-nuh, secret agent yn, on the case!” she whispered, nearly tripping over a stray sock in the hallway. The dorm was a snoring symphony—Hoshi’s wheezy snorts, Mingyu’s deep rumbles, and Seungcheol’s occasional grumble about “schedules” in his sleep.

She crept to Dino and Vernon’s room, peeking through the cracked door. Dino was sprawled across his bunk, one leg dangling off, snoring like a chainsaw. Vernon was curled up in a ball, muttering something about “pizza” in his dreams. “Useless,” yn huffed. “They’re out cold. No backup tonight.”

Seungkwan’s room was a no-go—he bunked with Seungcheol, and waking him was a death wish. “Guess it’s just me and the night,” she said, rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Perfect. I thrive in chaos.”

She grabbed her hoodie—bright yellow, because stealth wasn’t her forte—and slipped on her sneakers, already buzzing with excitement. The anxiety of sneaking out alone? To her, it was a rollercoaster thrill. “What’s the worst that could happen?” she mused, easing the dorm door open with a creak that made her freeze. No one stirred. “Ha! I’m a genius.”

Out in the cool Seoul night, yn practically skipped down the street, her grin stretching ear to ear. “Freedom!” she whisper-shouted, twirling under a streetlight like she’d escaped Alcatraz. She had no plan—just pure, unfiltered yn energy. Maybe she’d hit a 24-hour convenience store for snacks. Maybe she’d find a park and swing until dawn. Or maybe she’d just wander and see what trouble found her first.

Back at the dorm, the clock ticked past 2 AM, and the silence held—until Seungcheol rolled over in his sleep, mumbling, “YN, don’t you dare…” His leader instincts were tingling, but he didn’t wake.

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

Yn was in her element, strolling through the quiet Seoul streets at 2:30 AM, a cheap convenience store ice cream cone in one hand and a bag of chips dangling from the other. Her yellow hoodie glowed under the streetlights, and she was belting out a goofy rendition of Seventeen’s latest song, swapping lyrics for nonsense. “Oh, I’m a pretty troublemaker, yeah, sneaking out ‘cause I’m the best—ooh, ice cream, don’t melt on me!” She twirled, nearly dropping her cone, then caught it with a triumphant, “Ha! Skills!”

Her solo rebellion was going swimmingly—no grumpy managers, no snoring members, just her and the night. She licked her ice cream, humming happily, when a soft whisper cut through the air. “Yn? Is that… yn?”

She froze mid-lick, turning to see five girls huddled near a bench, eyes wide and hands clasped like they’d just spotted a unicorn. “Oh my gosh, it is her!” one whispered, barely containing a squeal.

Yn’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hey, cuties!” she chirped, bounding over with her trademark grin. “What’s up? You guys carats?”

The girls nodded frantically, too starstruck to speak at first. “Can… can we get a picture?” one finally stammered, holding up her polariod with shaky hands.

“Totally!” Yn said, striking a goofy pose with her ice cream. “But listen—don’t post it, okay? Coups oppa grounded me, and if he finds out I’m out here, I’m toast. Like, ‘cleaning-the-dorm-for-eternity’ toast.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s got me on lockdown ‘til 7 PM unless I’ve got a babysitter. Can you keep it a secret?”

The fans giggled, nodding like bobbleheads. “We won’t tell! Promise!” one said, snapping a quick photo of yn mid-wink, ice cream dripping onto her sleeve.

“Sweet! You guys are the best,” Yn said, wiping her sleeve on her hoodie without a care. “Hey, wanna walk with me? I’ll buy you ice cream if you’re down—just no posting, deal?”

“Deal!” they chorused, falling into step beside her like a little entourage. Yn led them back to the 24-hour convenience store, her energy infectious as she waved her melting cone like a conductor’s baton.

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

Inside the store, yn played ice cream fairy, grabbing cones for everyone—strawberry for one, chocolate for another, and a weird green tea flavor for the boldest fan. “This one’s either amazing or tastes like grass,” she warned, handing it over with a laugh. They plopped onto a bench outside, and yn launched into full yap mode, regaling them with dorm tales—carefully curated for maximum fun, minimum privacy invasion.

“So, Coups oppa is, like, the worst,” she said, waving her cone for emphasis. “He’s got me grounded because of this whole New York thing—long story, don’t ask—but why am I the only one suffering? Dino was there too! And get this—Woozi keeps stealing my cola stash. I’ll hide it under my bed, and he’s like a bloodhound, sniffing it out! Then he’s all, ‘Oh, YN, didn’t see your name on it,’ while chugging it in my face!”

The fans laughed, hanging on her every word. “And the cleaning!” she groaned, flopping back on the bench dramatically. “Two months of scrubbing because of one tiny sneak-out! Mingyu keeps ‘accidentally’ leaving his sweaty gym socks everywhere, and Hoshi’s like, ‘Yn, you missed a spot!’ while he’s eating chips on the couch I just vacuumed!”

One fan, clutching her strawberry cone, giggled. “Sounds like they’re torturing you!”

“They are!” yn wailed, then grinned. “But I’m sneaky. See? Here I am, free as a bird, eating ice cream with you angels. Coups oppa can’t stop me!”

The clock ticked toward 3 AM, and YN showed no signs of slowing down. She was mid-story—“So then Jeonghan oppa pretended he lost his phone just to make me search the dorm, and it was in his pocket the whole time!”—when one fan’s phone buzzed loudly. The girl’s face paled as she answered. “Mom? Uh… I’m just out with friends… I’ll be home soon!”

The call ended, and the fans exchanged guilty looks. “Yn, we’ve gotta go,” one said hesitantly. “It’s super late, and our parents are freaking out.”

Yn pouted, her ice cream now a sticky puddle in her hand. “Aw, already? But I was just getting to the part where Seungkwan screamed so loud he woke the whole dorm!” She sighed, then perked up. “Okay, fine. You guys head home—but promise you’ll keep this on the down-low, yeah?”

“Promise!” they said, beaming. “Take care, YN! We’ll support Seventeen forever!”

“And tell Coups oppa to chill!” one added, giggling as they waved goodbye.

“Ha! Fat chance,” Yn called after them, watching them disappear into the night. She sat back, finishing her chips with a satisfied crunch. “Best fans ever. This is why I sneak out—freedom and friends!”

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

By the time yn tiptoed back into the dorm, it was pushing 3:30 AM. She kicked off her sneakers, tossed her hoodie onto a chair, and flopped onto her bed, still buzzing from her adventure. “Mission success,” she mumbled, pulling the covers up with a smug grin. “Coups oppa who? Grounding what?” She was out cold in seconds, dreaming of ice cream and adoring fans.

Morning came, and the dorm hummed with its usual chaos—Hoshi banging pots in the kitchen, Mingyu yelling about missing socks, Seungcheol barking orders. Yn strolled out of her room, yawning like nothing had happened, her secret triumph tucked safely away. Seungcheol eyed her suspiciously over his coffee. “You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s grounded.”

“Just happy to be alive, oppa!” she chirped, dodging his gaze to grab a juice box. “Cleaning duty’s got me in high spirits!”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered, but let it slide. Vernon shuffled by, squinting at her. “You look… rested.”

“Sleep’s my superpower,” she said, winking. Dino just groaned, lugging a laundry basket past her. “Why am I still suffering and you’re all perky?”

“Positive vibes, Dino-yah!” she sang, skipping off to avoid further questions.

The fans kept their word—no photos surfaced, no whispers spread. Twitter stayed blissfully quiet, and Seungcheol’s spidey senses didn’t ping. Yn had pulled off the perfect midnight sneak-out: no evidence, no fallout, just a night of ice cream, laughter, and a little rebellion to keep her sane.

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

Next day, fan meeting was in full swing, a buzzing sea of Carats clutching albums and grinning ear to ear as Seventeen signed away. YN sat smack in the middle, flanked by Seungcheol on her left and Jun on her right, her energy dialed up to eleven. She was in her element—winking at fans, doodling little hearts on their albums, and tossing out playful banter like confetti.

“Yn, you’re my favorite troublemaker!” one fan gushed, sliding her album over.

“Aw, thanks! I try,” Yn chirped, scribbling her signature with a flourish and adding a tiny bunny sketch. She handed it back with a grin, oblivious to the storm brewing just a few fans down the line.

Next up was a girl with a sweet smile, her eyes twinkling with something yn couldn’t quite place. “Hi, yn,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I’m one of the girls you bought ice cream for at 3 AM.”

Yn’s pen froze mid-heart. Her eyes ballooned, darting to Seungcheol and Jun, who were busy charming their own fans—Seungcheol nodding at a question about his favorite food, Jun doodling a cat on someone’s album. She snapped her gaze back to the girl, pressing a finger to her lips with a frantic “Shhh!” before plastering on a grin. “Hey, good to see you too!” she said, a little too loudly, signing the album with a shaky hand.

The girl giggled, then slid a polaroid across the table. “Can you sign this too? It’s us from that night!” It was a goofy shot—yn in her yellow hoodie, ice cream dripping down her wrist, flanked by five girls striking silly poses with their own cones. The date and time were stamped in the corner: two days ago, 3:12 AM.

Yn’s brain short-circuited. It’s fine, it’s fine, she won’t show anyone, she told herself, forcing a laugh. “Love this pic! Our little secret, right?” She scrawled her signature across it, adding a winking emoji, then handed it back with a conspiratorial wink. The girl nodded, tucking it into her album, and moved down the line, blissfully happy.

The girl reached Seungcheol next, still beaming. “Hi, Coups! You’re so cool!” she said, sliding her album over. He smiled warmly, chatting about the tour as he signed with his usual neat precision. But as he flipped the album closed, the polaroid slipped out, fluttering to the table unnoticed. The girl didn’t see it, too busy gushing about his leadership skills, and Seungcheol didn’t either, handing the album back with a “Take care!”

The signing wrapped up, and the members shifted gears—fans settled into their seats, and the stage turned into a playground. Hoshi pranced around in a tiger onesie a fan had gifted, Mingyu tried on a pair of oversized sunglasses, and yn was busy tormenting Woozi, belting an off-key version of “Adore U” right in his ear. “Woozi-yah, love meeee!” she warbled, dodging his swat with a cackle.

Jun, meanwhile, lounged at the table, sipping an iced coffee and fiddling with a plush cat toy. “This is cute,” he mumbled, squeezing its paw—until his eyes caught something under the pile of gifts. A Polaroid, half-buried under a scarf. He tugged it free, squinting at the image, and his jaw dropped.

“Yo, what?!” he yelped, holding it up to the light. There was yn, grinning like a fool with ice cream smeared on her face, surrounded by five girls mid-laugh. The date glared back at him: two days ago, 3:12 AM. “No way. No way!”

Yn, still oblivious, was now trying to drape a flower crown on Woozi’s head. “Hold still, you grumpy gremlin!” she laughed, completely missing Jun’s growing grin.

Jun grabbed his mic, voice booming across the venue. “Hey, carats! Who’s this in the picture?!” He waved the Polaroid like a flag, then turned to Seungcheol with a devilish smirk. “Coups, come look at this!”

The fans erupted in curious cheers, craning their necks. Seungcheol, mid-conversation with Joshua about a fan-made banner, frowned and ambled over. “What’s so funny, Jun?”

Yn’s head whipped around, and when she saw the polaroid in Jun’s hand, her eyes ballooned to saucer size. “Oh no,” she whispered, dropping the flower crown. She bolted across the stage, arms flailing. “JUN, GIVE ME THAT!”

But Seungcheol was faster. He snatched it from Jun’s hand, holding it out of her reach as she leapt like a frantic cat. “What’s this, huh?” he said, scanning the photo. His smile froze as he clocked the date—two days ago, 3:12 AM. His gaze slid to yn, who skidded to a stop, hands clasped in a desperate plea.

“Coups oppa, it’s not what it looks like!” she squeaked, her voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear.

“Not what it looks like?!” Seungcheol roared, holding the Polaroid up for the members to see. “This is you, two nights ago, at 3 AM, with ice cream and fans! You’re grounded, yn! 7 PM curfew! What part of that didn’t stick?!”

The fans gasped, then giggled, the girl from the signing sinking low in her seat. “I didn’t mean to!” she whispered to her friend, mortified. “It just fell out!”

Jun was doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his coffee. “She’s unstoppable! Grounded and still sneaking out for ice cream? Legend!”

Yn lunged again, but Seungcheol sidestepped, waving the photo like a prosecutor with evidence. “You’re dead, kid. Dead! What’s your excuse this time?”

“I was bored!” Yn wailed, flopping dramatically onto the stage. “You locked me up like a prisoner! I needed air! Ice cream! Freedom! And those fans were so nice—they didn’t post it, see? No harm done!”

“No harm?!” Seungcheol barked, though a tiny smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re lucky they didn’t, or we’d be trending again—‘Seventeen’s Maknae Escapes Jail for Ice Cream!’”

The members piled on—Hoshi howling, “She’s a ninja!” while Vernon muttered, “I knew she’d crack eventually,” and Seungkwan clutched Dino, whining, “Why am I not surprised?” Woozi just sighed, finally free of her singing, and deadpanned, “Can we trade her for a quieter maknae?”

The fans cheered, loving the chaos, as yn scrambled to her feet, pointing at Jun. “This is your fault! Why’d you pick it up?!”

Jun grinned, tossing the cat toy at her. “Because it’s hilarious! You’re a walking disaster, and I live for it!”

Seungcheol shook his head, tucking the Polaroid. “This is evidence. And your grounding? Extended. 6 PM curfew now, thanks to your parents’ brilliant suggestion. And don’t even think about sneaking out again—I’m putting bells on your door.”

“Bells?!” YN gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been shot. “That’s inhumane! I’m not a cat!”

Seungcheol stood center stage, the incriminating photo still in his hand, his leader glare dialed up to maximum. The members were scattered around him—Jun still snickering, Woozi nursing a headache, and yn sprawled dramatically on the floor, fake-crying about her extended curfew. The fans buzzed with excitement, loving every second of the chaos.

Seungcheol raised the mic, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Okay, whose Polaroid is this? Who’s the mastermind behind this evidence?”

A timid hand shot up from the crowd. It was the girl from the signing, her face a mix of guilt and glee. “Uh… me?” she squeaked, sinking lower in her seat as every eye turned to her.

Seungcheol sighed, marching to the edge of the stage and hopping down to her row. “Here,” he said, handing the Polaroid back with a stern look. “Keep it safe this time—and maybe don’t let it fall into the wrong hands, yeah?” He flashed a quick smile, softening the edge just enough to make her blush, then climbed back up, mic in hand.

The girl clutched the photo, whispering to her friend, “He’s so cool even when he’s mad!” The crowd cooed, and Seungcheol shook his head, turning his attention to the fans at large.

“Alright, listen up, Carats,” he said, pacing like a disappointed dad. “You’re all amazing, but some of you? You’re part of yn’s trouble squad now! I know she’s a handful—” he shot a glare at yn, who stuck her tongue out—“but if she sneaks out again and you run into her at 3 AM, tell me. Send me a text, a carrier pigeon, whatever! I need to know what she’s up to!”

The fans giggled, and one brave soul shouted, “What’s your number, oppa?!”

He smirked, wagging a finger. “Nice try, but no. Seriously, though—what did she do that night to keep you all so quiet? Spill it!”

The girl with the Polaroid piped up, voice shaky but proud. “She bought us ice cream and told us funny stories about you guys! She said Woozi steals her cola and Hoshi tortures her with cleaning!”

Woozi groaned from his seat, muttering, “It’s not stealing if it’s in the fridge,” while Hoshi cackled, “She’s just mad I’m a better tiger than her!”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed at the crowd. “Ice cream at 3 AM? And you all just went along with it? How old are you guys—teens, right? What were you doing out that late? Don’t your parents worry?!”

The fans squirmed, some laughing nervously. “We were just… hanging out!” one called, earning a chorus of agreement.

“Hanging out’ at 3 AM?!” Seungcheol barked, throwing his hands up. “You’re as bad as her! Next time, go home and sleep—don’t let yn rope you into her chaos!”

Yn popped up from the floor, grabbing her mic with a grin. “Oh, come on, Appa Coups! You’re stricter than my real dad! These Carats are my heroes—they kept me company while you had me locked up like Rapunzel!”

The crowd erupted in laughter, chanting “Appa Coups! Appa Coups!” Seungcheol’s face twitched, caught between annoyance and amusement. “Appa, huh? You wanna talk parents? Your mom and dad text me every week thanking me for dealing with you! ‘Seungcheol-ah, you’re a saint,’ they say. ‘We’re so sorry she’s your problem now!’”

Yn gasped, clutching her chest. “Lies! They love me! You’re just mad because I’m aging you faster than a bad dye job! Look at those stress lines—because of me, you’re gonna be gray by 25!”

Seungcheol smirked, leaning into the mic. “Oh, I’m way past that. Thanks to you, I don’t even want kids anymore! One yn is enough—I’d rather adopt a rock. Less trouble!”

The fans roared, and yn flopped back onto the stage, wailing, “I’m a blessing, not a curse! Tell him, carats!” The crowd cheered wildly, waving their lightsticks in solidarity.

Dino, who’d been quietly basking in the chaos-free zone, grabbed his mic with a grin brighter than the stage lights. “Wait, wait, wait—can I just say something? For the first time since I met yn, I’m safe! She didn’t drag me into this one! I slept through it like a normal person!”

The fans cooed, and Seungkwan jumped in, mic in hand. “Same! I was snoring with Coups hyung—no alley chases, no dumpster dives! I’m free!”

Vernon nodded sagely, sipping a water bottle. “First time in years I didn’t wake up to her plotting. It’s a miracle.”

Dino spun to the crowd, eyes gleaming with fan-service energy. “You don’t get it, Carats—she’s a manipulator! Every time, it’s the same! ‘Dino-yah, it’ll be quick,’ she says. ‘Just a snack run!’ Next thing I know, we’re lost in New York, hiding from fans, and I’m cleaning toilets for two months! She’s got those puppy eyes—‘Please, Dino, I’ll die without you!’—and I fall for it every time!”

Yn sat up, pointing at him. “Excuse you, I don’t manipulate! I inspire! You love my adventures—admit it!”

“Love?!” Dino yelped, clutching his hair. “I loved sleeping last night! That’s the real win! You should’ve seen her in New York—‘Dino, let’s sneak out, it’s fine!’—and then we’re running from a mob, and I’m praying to survive!”

Seungkwan nodded furiously. “She’s a menace! That night in New York, I screamed so loud I woke myself up, and she’s just laughing like it’s a game! I’m still traumatized!”

Vernon smirked, leaning into his mic. “She’s like a chaos magnet. I only went because I didn’t wanna be the guy who let her die. Now I’m just glad I’m not grounded too.”

The fans were in stitches, shouting “Poor Dino!” and “Save Vernon!” while yn pouted, crossing her arms. “You’re all so dramatic! I’m the victim here—grounded, belled like a cat, and now betrayed by my own maknae line!”

Seungcheol stepped forward, waving the crowd down. “Alright, enough—here’s the deal, Carats. You’re my spies now. If yn sneaks out again, you tell me. I’ll give you a signed album or something—just keep her in line, because clearly I can’t!”

The fans cheered, and one yelled, “We’ll protect you, Appa Coups!” He flashed a thumbs-up, then turned to yn with a mock glare. “And you—6 PM curfew starts tonight. Try me again, and I’m chaining you to the dorm.”

Yn flopped back, kicking her legs like a toddler. “This is oppression! Carats, save me from Appa Coups!” The crowd laughed, chanting her name, and she popped up to blow them kisses. “I love you all—even if you’re snitches now!”

Jun, still giggling, tossed the cat toy at her. “You’re never beating the troublemaker title, yn. Own it!”

Dino leaned into Seungkwan, whispering loud enough for the mic to catch, “Finally, I’m not the fall guy. I might cry.”

“Cry later,” Seungkwan shot back, “we’ve still got laundry duty because of her last stunt!”

The fan meeting rolled on, the members diving back into gift-opening and fan games, but the air buzzed with yn’s latest legend. Seungcheol kept one eye on her, the polaroid incident filed away as ammo for future lectures. The fans, now honorary S.Coups spies, adored their chaotic maknae even more—and yn? She was already plotting how to sneak past her new 6 PM jail sentence, because no amount of scolding could dim her wild spark.