boo! I got your toes! | chapter 3
pairing: cortis x ghost!reader
synopsis: you’re a ghost who’s been wandering around with no purpose. you don’t remember your past life or anything for that matter. you’re always bored and find ways to entertain yourself—observing humans, flickering lights, sending objects tumbling off shelves, and the occasional toe grab through the blanket. so imagine your surprise when you phase through the walls of a random building, ready to terrorise a group of teen dudes, only for them to end up pointing at you and screaming their heads off before you could even do anything. your eyes widen at the realisation. they can see you.
genre: crack, fluff…romance starting to kick in perhaps?(tell me y’all see it—), lil teeny bit of angst coming in (don’t jump me yet, i can explain)
word count: 3.6k (it’s starting to get hefty)
other parts: chapter 1, chapter 2
a/n: hey peeps! im here, and unlike you in this fic, I’m not dead ;D anyway! here’s today’s chaos with a sprinkle of something sweet. tell me what you think in the comments! are you ready to dive deeper into the storyline? (yes, this crack fic somehow has an acc storyline. ik… it’s astonishing) let’s get going! and as always, tysm for reading <3
It hasn’t even fully been a whole day yet, and you find yourself staring directly at deep brown eyes that are as eerily calm as the ocean waters.
The person in front you sighs through his nostrils, clearly fed up of seeing you this much in such a short span of time.
“Do you specifically have a thing for me, or something?”
You give an enormously dramatic gasp.
“How dare you,” you think about it. Then, shrugging your shoulders, “… perhaps—”
Juhoon just closes his eyes, tiredness already reaching his frontal lobe. Maybe if he can’t see you, he won’t be able to hear your nonsense either.
“I’m still here by the way.”
Blinking his eyes open, his hand automatically reaches for the singing bowl beside his bed.
You raise a brow. “That again?”
“It’s worth a shot.” He’s mumbling when he says this, eyes blinking incredibly slowly.
Now, you might be wondering. What the hell is going on?
To be completely frank, you have no clue.
It seems that Juhoon caught you sneaking around the house on the way to scare the member that resembles an Amazon tree at the butt crack of dawn.
And instead of his usual quiet retreat he got mad at you.
Like, actually got mad at you.
Sleep deprivation is one hell of a drug.
So now you’re on time out. Or more like, you’re obediently following his instructions. You don’t know why you went with the flow. His voice carries a scary amount of authority when he wants it to.
Anyway, you’re being held hostage, and you can’t leave until you promise to never set foot… well, never float foot in the dorm.
He even wrote a contract. By hand, of course. Which is a little silly considering you can’t exactly pick up a pen right now.
Perhaps he’s trying to pick a fight with you.
You patiently wait, watching him hit the singing bowl with calm precision. After a few delicate rings, he nods his head over to you.
Doing as he proposed, you check over yourself, observing if you’re starting to disappear or if you’re feeling any sort of strange sensations like last time.
“Nope. Nothing.” You pop the ‘p’ and that alone makes Juhoon want to ignore you’re even in front of him. Luckily, his roommate James sleeps like a dead log, so his shenanigans are undetectable… for now.
“Hmm, hold on.” He picks up his phone and starts typing aggressively. You can see the red in his eyes and the sag underneath them. You almost feel bad for making him lose anymore sleep.
“It says here that we should try garlic.”
“Isn’t that for vampires?”
And you’re now both in the kitchen.
“Do you feel any different now?”
You give a small gasp and look at him for a moment.
Your eyes slowly widen and for a split second Juhoon’s lips twitch upwards in victory, genuinely thinking that’s he’s managed to vanquish you.
“I don’t think these methods are working. What’s the next one?”
Why are you going ahead with being obliterated off the face of the Earth, you ask?
He said that if you disappear quietly he’ll give you something for free.
Even to the dead, free items are like shackles to the mind.
But wait, how are you going to get your free request if you’re not even going to be here to receive it.
You didn’t think it through!
“Hey…wait a sec, I just thought about our agreement and—”
“—Oh, there’s one more method we can try. ChatGPT says: in order for a ghost to rest in peace, try to fulfil their last wish.”
Yep. You’re entirely distracted.
“So what is it?” You ask in a plain tone.
He blinks at you flatly. “What do you mean?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Well I don’t know either so try and be helpful and get to thinking.”
Juhoon just looks at you for a moment. A displeased furrow to his brows. This is the most he’s ever talked in his life and the side effects of exhaustion are starting to kick in.
You try to sarcastically pat his shoulder for false comfort but your hand phases right through him.
A strong shudder rattles through his body and you find the hand that went through him going numb.
You stare at it for a moment. Then a flash of something fast and blurry whizzes through your mind.
A car. A poster. Sounds. Too many sounds.
It ends just as quick as it came, but the cacophony still rings in your ear once it’s gone.
Your hands fly to shield the side of your head. A useless attempt at stopping the reverb.
Juhoon’s caught off guard, he worriedly watches you wince in sharp pain. His arms hover to your side, unsure of how to help.
You hiss a curse before calming down.
“Are you okay? What was that?” He asks tentatively.
The room falls quiet, the subtle sound of your hazy breath seeping through.
“I…I think I just remembered something.”
Juhoon’s eyes actually widen properly this time.
He doesn’t know how to deal with…this.
Is this meant to be a good sign or a bad sign?
“Are you okay though?” He asks again, he takes a step closer to your form, and you watch with mild astonishment.
Did he forget you’re a ghost?
Is this what the youth call…flirting?
“…Let’s call it a night.” His voice breaks through your internal ridiculousness.
Your eyes flit to his, ready to protest.
You can’t even get a word out before he speaks again, his dark orbs resolute.
“I have practice tomorrow.”
You give a strained, guilty smile, shrugging your shoulders in nonchalance.
He’s already on his way to his room when he turns around to look at you. You flinch at his gaze, wondering if you’ve already done something wrong.
He takes a moment before he says anything, his orbs take you in fully, then avert to the side.
“You don’t have to disappear immediately, you know.” He says.
It’s small. It’s meek. And almost vulnerably hesitant, but he doesn’t take back his words as he nods your way.
The door closes on your face.
You breathe out an exasperated breath, already bored without anyone to interact with.
Shaking your head, you lazily make your way to the couch, slowly lowering your body to lay on it.
Giving it another go, you mentally focus on the idea of relaxing on its surface. Gradually, your body lowers again. This time, you successfully sprawl on it, just barely hovering above its material.
Sighing, you relax your mind. Completely forgetting about where you actually were.
And you stayed there for the rest of the unsuspecting day, the clouds lazily hovering by, akin to you, signalling the start of a new unfortunate morning.
The boys are rushing, running around, trying to get ready for practice before the manager genuinely leaves them in the dust and skrts off with the van.
You’re like cool. Since they’re going to practice, might as well explore the city and look for more people to terrorise.
You leave their apartment. Don’t get past 800 metres when you feel the strongest zap you’ve ever felt. Mainly cause you’ve never actually been zapped.
Weird experience, by the way. You wouldn’t recommend it.
Anyway. You’re back in the dorm. Boys scurrying out the door with bags as big as them.
A confused ‘you’, just standing there in complete and utter loss.
You’re back in record time.
Now, you’re pretty sure you’re not bound to the building. But you think you might have officially kick started an accidental ‘haunting’.
Yeah, I know. A lot of picturing. You gotta keep up ghostie.
You blink back the shock, finding your eyes trained on a hazy reflection of yourself.
One minute you’re standing like a scarecrow in the middle of the living room because in your mind, you’re on house arrest. The next, you’re being pulled out by some mysterious force, eyes bewildered, staring at a room full of mirrors.
The boys are practicing, fogging up the room with their laboured breaths.
They don’t even notice you. Too engrossed in their dancing and trying not to die after hearing “Again” from the instructor for the 47th time.
And you, in all your confused glory, are forced to watch with no given context. Now completely thrown off from your usual proactive routine of jumping from place to place.
These events are the exact reason why you believe you may have accidentally ignited some unexplainable connection between them. Of course, this is just your theory. But when were you ever wrong?
So yeah. They’re stuck with you. And you’re unconventionally stuck with them.
You’re pretty sure you heard another group practicing a song earlier with that exact same lyric. TXT was it? You’re not sure. Their group name unironically sounded like a bomb component though.
Smiling to yourself, you silently approve of their existence. You like that.
The next few hours were spent phasing through random practice rooms, observing other groups that unfortunately couldn’t see you.
But you did manage to listen in on some unreleased music for free. That almost made your unnoticeable presence worth it.
You’re just about to phase through the wall to another dance hall. You’re already half way through, eyes taking in the sight of 7 dudes with the unimaginable aura of legendary ancient dragons, when you zap out of nowhere.
You’re back at the dorms.
You didn’t even get to watch them take one step!
What’s worse is that it didn’t even teleport you inside. What the hell kind of haunting feature doesn’t teleport you directly to the target?!
You sigh, about to go off in a completely different direction to try and win over the laws of nature when out of the corner of your eye, you see them.
Two of them, specifically.
So it’s their fault that you’re back here, huh?
Pondering over it, your gaze follows the two boys jumping out of the van and walking into the block of flats.
A devious smile overtakes your lips. The taste of sweet revenge and something more.
Tilting your head to the side, you catch yourself slowly floating after them. The two of them chatting up a storm, entirely unaware of your presence.
What’s scarier than a jump-scare?
“Yo! Why didn’t you make me some?!”
Martin and Keonho. The two trouble makers that somehow managed to get the rest of the day off.
Coming back to the dorms early is always a rare and treasured occasion. So you know that the two of them are absolutely making the most of it.
“You didn’t look hungry.” Keonho mutters under his breath, an uninterested look in his eyes. He absentmindedly scrambles the content he’s cooking.
Then he cracks the 9th egg into the pan.
“Ain’t no way you’re eating all of that by yourself, gimme—”
He cracks another egg for emotional impact. The cherry on top.
Martin quietly stares at him for half a second.
He goes to jump the younger but Keonho is swift on his feet. He dodges with ease.
“Martinie, Martinie. You’re always so predictable. You have to fix that. It’s becoming embarrassing.” His words are slurred, the same fork he scrambled the eggs with hangs loosely in his mouth.
Martin’s bending down for his slipper, getting ready to throw it towards the male across him. Keonho quickly puts his hands in front of himself in surrender.
“Okay, Okay! I’ll make you some, damn!”
The tall male lowers his weapon, a content smile on his lips. He promptly switches it to a threatening glower.
“Yeah, don’t let that happen again otherwise I’ll—” Swoosh sounds and karate chops in the air. Martin quickly feigns a slipper attack before marching his way to plop onto the couch.
From the kitchen, Keonho kisses his teeth.
“I ain’t making you squat.” A whisper too scared to be a bold declaration.
He continues scrambling the eggs.
“I’m putting salt on em!”
Not a second after, Martin’s voice comes booming from the living room space.
“Nah! I like my eggs confident and natural—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion!”
The taller male doesn’t bother responding.
He’s still sifting through what music he should put on in the background when he feels a faint chill overtaking the couch.
“Dang, do we have the AC on?”
From behind the kitchen counter, Keonho’s eyes lazily pan towards the tall male, a blank look on his face.
“Hyung, you know damn well we don’t have AC. We’re too broke for that. You said it yourself.”
Keonho raises a knowing brow.
Martin’s now pursing his lips. The frosty sensation from earlier disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Taking the fork he’s been using, Keonho stabs an egg cloud, plopping the piece in his mouth.
It’s cooked. And it’s obviously delicious cause he made it—
A shiver runs down his spine.
Rubbing his shoulder in confusion he sniffles in a breath.
No. It’s not that. It feels like someone’s watching him.
He looks over his shoulder.
He turns back around and finds his freshly cooked scrambled eggs staring back at him.
“My baby,” he cooes to the pan.
Another shiver. A quiet sound follows.
He’s quick to turn this time. Gulping down harshly, pan of eggs still in hand.
Hearing the faint chuckles coming from where Martin is peacefully sitting in the living room, he immediately hisses at the older male.
“Shhh! Shut up for a second!”
Martin, looking ever so victimised, throws his hands in the air.
“I didn’t even say anything?”
A long silence passes by with the two of them just staring into nothing. Ears on full attention.
Eventually, Martin’s sigh breaks the lack of sound.
“So like, are you gonna have those eggs or nah?”
As if on cue, Keonho’s tummy rumbles loudly.
“Yeah, you’re right. I must be overthinking.”
Moving to transfer the pan to the living room table, Keonho sets it down with a satisfying tap.
“Ay, what about my fork?” Martin’s now moved on to cooking some beats on his laptop. A sudden rush of inspiration coming from the aroma of the eggs.
“We can just share this one,”
He reaches for his slipper and Keonho immediately goes to grab another fork.
“Here.” Keonho shoves a metal spoon near Martin’s face, eyes completely trained on the fluffy mount of yellow on the table.
Without further ado, he goes for the spot next to Martin.
He hasn’t even sat down when he feels a chilling breeze.
A breeze on his toes, to be specific.
“Ayo!” Jumping back up to a straight posture, the younger hops on his unaffected leg, his hands going to rub at his cold foot.
Martin ignores his vocalisation, going for a bite. He doesn’t fail to quizzically look at the younger though.
Then, with a full mouth. “Dawg, you serious right now?”
“No, I promise. I just felt something!”
Martin drops his spoon in the pan, a dragged sound from his throat.
“Whoever told you you’re funny lied to you.”
At his genuine reaction, Martin stops.
The next minute, a soft sound carries past their ears.
That’s when they both go quiet.
Martin’s laptop shuts off.
The air is unnaturally still.
And the bright afternoon sun starts to look like the haze of the night.
They slowly look at each other, faces the depiction of mortification.
Unfortunately for them, it’s indeed like this, happening right now.
Slowly but surely, you reveal yourself, purposefully hanging from the ceiling, your head low, hair slightly in the way.
A deep chuckle spills out of you as you wriggle your fingers at them like a mascot scarring a toddler.
This is your best work yet, and it seems like they agree.
You don’t want to feel left out.
Keonho very gently sets the pan of freshly scrambled eggs on the table, off to a safe distance.
Then just straight up shoves Martin straight to you to buy time for his escape.
You marvel at his conduct.
He’s definitely the type to leave you for dead in a life or death scenario.
Martin slips on the wooden floor, his tall frame crashing against the sofa, feet scurrying to put distance between you.
His eyes are big, chest rising and falling at a concerning rate, face as white as can be. You make your way closer to the poor guy.
Seeing this, he stops all movement.
His soul leaves his body.
Keonho’s long gone. And by gone you mean he literally threw on whatever shoes he could find and raced out the apartment.
Just as Martin is about to clock out, you hurriedly wave your hands in front of you.
“No, no, no, no, shhhh. It’s okay. Everything is okay, shhh.”
He halts his panic entirely and just looks at you weird.
You scare him. Ridicule his fear. And then console him, all in the span of 1 minute, and he’s supposed to be okay?!
You shrug your shoulders, opening your arms to the side.
“I wanted to speak with one person at a time. Social anxiety, you know. I had to do what I had to do.”
Martin is staring at you like you have three heads and an unpaid mortgage, because genuinely… what?
You mean to tell him that you did this all to separate them.
“Just what was in that energy drink I had this morning?”
“You had an energy drink this morning? That’s cool. I can’t drink so.”
“Anyway, that was funny. I like your scream. You sound like a girl, very conquette.” You float closer to him with a calm expression and you watch him flinch a little but eventually relax.
Is he getting used to this?
Oh. Nice, two down. Three to go.
The earlier they get accustomed to you the better.
Getting a closer look at your face, recognition seems to bloom in his thoughts as he breathes out a short breath.
“It’s… you again.” You hear Martin speak up and you can’t help but deadpan.
“You mean to tell me you just realised that the same ghost has been haunting you for this long?”
He just nods and you sigh, lowering your head in disbelief.
“Do you know when the calm dude is coming back, by the way. We have some urgent business to attend to.” You state in an air of seriousness, stroking your invisible beard.
Martin, who has completely calmed down now and is genuinely questioning his sanity as to how he’s even speaking with you, gives a small gasp. His large hands go to cover his mouth, shoulders rising in surprise.
“Yeah. Me and him go way back.” You pick at your nails, smugly floating higher, a leg crossed over the other.
“Anyway, know his ETA at all?”
Martin shakes his head, a small sulk to his face. “Sorry, I don’t. It just depends on his schedule.”
Sliding your eyes over to him, you silently watch him for a few seconds.
You wonder if it works the same for every member, but so far, you have managed to find a new discovery per physical interaction.
You want to know what this whole thing is about. The burn at your wrist, the strange flash of a memory, and whatever is going to happen next.
You stretch out your hands towards him, an offering of greeting.
“Well, whatever. Since you’re here, hi. It’s nice to meet you. I don’t know my name. What’s yours?”
Martin studies where your hand is hovering in front of him, still a little hesitant. But one prolonged look at your face throws all hesitation out the window.
Cause when he really looks at you…
Like a light switch, the corner of his lips rise. A new found confidence flows through him as he lowers his voice in a flirtatious manner.
And with that, he connects his hand with yours.
Friction. Contact. Skin to skin.
You feel the way your senses tingle in alert and your brain short circuits for a split second.
A flash of something familiar.
It’s like the air is sucked out of you, until you blink back the shock from the unnatural touch.
He’s just as surprised at you, albeit for a completely different reason.
You don’t respond, entirely focused on the information you just received.
“Dude.” Your calm voice is barely audible.
Martin looks at your uncharacteristic reaction. Without much to go on, he simply waits for you to finish talking.
Your eyes flit to his. Dead serious.
“I think I just remembered my name.”
