Pr3ttyGigi

Hello this is @Corpsebridx alt

[corpsebridxalt]

Nct Masterlist

Nct 127

Johnny -The one that got away

Taeyong-

Yuta-

Doyoung-

Jaehyun-

Jungwoo-The little things

Mark-

Haechan-

Nct dream

Mark-New beginnings…? Part 2 Part 3

Renjun-

Jeno-Late-night study session Part 2

Haechan-

Jaemin-

Chenle-

Jisung-

Wayv

Kun-

Ten-Boyfriend…?

Winwin-

Xiaojun-In Another life

Hendery-

YangYang-First date

[corpsebridxalt]

JJ X Y/n

a/n: first post in a while so might not be good 🫩 bare with me

The sun was just starting to dip behind the trees when JJ flopped down beside you on the dock, the wood warm beneath both of you.

“You ever notice,” he said, skipping a rock across the water, “how everything feels quieter right before something big happens?”

You glanced at him. “That’s… oddly deep for you.”

He smirked. “Hey, I’ve got layers.”

For a moment, neither of you talked. Just the sound of the water, the cicadas, and JJ’s knee brushing yours every time he shifted. He didn’t move it away. Neither did you.

“You know,” he added, softer now, “out of everyone… you’re my favorite person to be quiet with.”

Your heart did that stupid little flip it always did when he said things like that.

You bumped his shoulder. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He turned, looking at you like he meant every word. “Yeah. Guess I mean it too.”

The air felt different then — not awkward, not rushed. Just… close. Real. JJ leaned back on his hands, eyes on the sky, and you did the same.

And for once, with everything going wrong in his life, JJ felt like this moment — just sitting here with you — was exactly where he was supposed to be.

[corpsebridxalt]

JJ X Y/n

a/n: first post in a while so might not be good 🫩 bare with me

The sun was just starting to dip behind the trees when JJ flopped down beside you on the dock, the wood warm beneath both of you.

“You ever notice,” he said, skipping a rock across the water, “how everything feels quieter right before something big happens?”

You glanced at him. “That’s… oddly deep for you.”

He smirked. “Hey, I’ve got layers.”

For a moment, neither of you talked. Just the sound of the water, the cicadas, and JJ’s knee brushing yours every time he shifted. He didn’t move it away. Neither did you.

“You know,” he added, softer now, “out of everyone… you’re my favorite person to be quiet with.”

Your heart did that stupid little flip it always did when he said things like that.

You bumped his shoulder. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He turned, looking at you like he meant every word. “Yeah. Guess I mean it too.”

The air felt different then — not awkward, not rushed. Just… close. Real. JJ leaned back on his hands, eyes on the sky, and you did the same.

And for once, with everything going wrong in his life, JJ felt like this moment — just sitting here with you — was exactly where he was supposed to be.

[corpsebridxalt]

Some of my worst works u like 🫩

[sobac]

[corpsebridxalt]

Some of my worst works u like 🫩

[corpsebridxalt]

I just got a new phone, now everything looks weird 🫩

[corpsebridxalt]

Nct Masterlist

Nct 127

Johnny -The one that got away

Taeyong-

Yuta-

Doyoung-

Jaehyun-

Jungwoo-The little things

Mark-

Haechan-

Nct dream

Mark-New beginnings…? Part 2 Part 3

Renjun-

Jeno-Late-night study session Part 2

Haechan-

Jaemin-

Chenle-

Jisung-

Wayv

Kun-

Ten-Boyfriend…?

Winwin-

Xiaojun-In Another life

Hendery-

YangYang-First date

[corpsebridxalt]

The One That Got Away

Johnny x reader

A/N:This might or might not happened me 🫢

The café smelled like coffee and vanilla, the scent wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. You traced the rim of your cup absentmindedly, letting the soft hum of conversation blend into the background. It was just another quiet afternoon—until the bell above the door chimed.

You barely noticed at first. People came and went all the time. But then, the world around you seemed to pause.

“[Y/N]?”

The voice was soft, hesitant. But it cut through the air like a knife.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. That voice. You hadn’t heard it in years, but you would’ve recognized it anywhere.

Slowly, you looked up. And there he was.

Johnny.

He stood just a few feet away, the afternoon light casting a golden glow over him. He looked… different. His features were sharper now, more refined, the kind of beauty that made cameras fall in love with him. But his eyes—the way they flickered with something unreadable—felt achingly familiar.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

He took a tentative step closer, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I—wow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You forced a smile, though it felt wrong on your lips. “Yeah. Same.”

It was a lie. You had seen his name on billboards, on posters, on the covers of magazines. You had watched his performances from the glow of your phone screen, fingers hovering over the like button but never pressing it. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And now, he was standing in front of you, real in a way that made your chest ache.

He glanced around, as if searching for something to say. “Do you… mind if I sit?”

You hesitated for a second too long, but then you nodded. “Sure.”

The chair scraped against the floor as he sat across from you. The silence between you felt heavier than it should have.

“How have you been?” he asked, voice softer now.

You shrugged, stirring your coffee even though you weren’t planning to drink it. “Good. Just… the usual.”

He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You always said that.”

Your chest tightened. You always said that. As if he still remembered the little things about you. As if those years of silence hadn’t changed everything.

“What about you?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen in years. “Busy, I guess.”

You nodded. Of course he was. That was why he had disappeared, why the texts had slowed, why the late-night calls had turned into radio silence. He had been busy.

For years, you had tried to convince yourself that it was just that. That he hadn’t forgotten you. That he hadn’t chosen a world where you no longer fit.

But sitting here now, you weren’t sure if you still believed that.

“Why did we stop talking?” he asked suddenly.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You met his gaze, but it was hard to hold. There was something raw in his expression, something almost desperate.

You wanted to laugh. Why did we stop talking? He really didn’t know?

Or maybe he did. Maybe he just wanted you to say it out loud.

“I don’t know,” you lied, gripping your cup a little tighter. “People just… drift apart, I guess.”

He exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly. “Right.”

Silence.

Outside, cars passed by, the city moving on like nothing had changed. But here, in this tiny café, time felt like it had frozen.

There was so much you could say. So much you wanted to say.

You could tell him about the nights you stayed up staring at your phone, waiting for a message that never came. You could tell him about the way your heart had shattered the first time you saw him on stage, looking like he belonged to the world—and not to you. You could tell him that even after all this time, after all the pretending, you still weren’t sure if you had ever really let him go.

But you didn’t say any of that.

Instead, you forced another smile and said, “It’s nice seeing you again.”

It was a goodbye, wrapped in polite words.

And he knew it.

His fingers curled slightly against the table. He looked like he wanted to say something—like he was on the verge of saying something. But then, the barista called his name.

His order was ready.

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer. Then he stood up.

You watched as he walked to the counter, as he took his cup with a small nod of thanks.

And then, just like that, he was heading for the door.

Your stomach twisted.

Say something. Stop him. Ask him if he ever missed you, too

But you didn’t.

You just sat there, gripping your cup like it was the only thing keeping you steady.

As the door swung open, you saw him hesitate. His fingers clenched around his cup, his head tilting slightly—like he was waiting for something.

Like he was waiting for you.

For a second, you thought he might turn around. That he might look at you with that same soft expression from all those years ago and ask you if you wanted to start over. If you wanted to try again.

But he didn’t.

He stepped outside, disappearing into the city, into the life that had taken him away from you once before.

You exhaled, staring at the empty chair across from you.

And then, you noticed it.

Something small. Left on the table.

Your heart stuttered.

It was a bracelet. Your bracelet. The one you had given him years ago, when you were still teenagers, when you still believed in forever. It was a little worn, a little faded, but still intact. Still something he had kept.

Your fingers trembled as you picked it up, feeling the weight of it, the memories stitched into the fabric.

Johnny had left it behind.

Or maybe—just maybe—he had left it for you.

A quiet part of you wanted to chase after him, to ask him why he still had it, why he had carried it all these years.

But you didn’t.

You just sat there, staring down at the past resting in your palm.

You had spent years telling yourself you had moved on. That you were okay.

But as you traced the worn edges of that old bracelet, you realized—

Some people aren’t meant to stay in your life.

Some people are just memories, lingering like a whisper of a song you once loved.

And maybe, just maybe, Johnny would always be the one that got away.

[bumbookitten]

Title: “Peach Sangria & Cigarettes”

Yuta x Reader | Not!fic-style prose

Now playing:Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

We met in late July, when the heat was still syrupy and thick, and everything felt like it was melting—my lip gloss, my morals, my ability to say no.

Yuta came in like an old movie. Leather jacket, cigarette tucked behind his ear, smile like he already knew your secrets and didn’t mind them. Everyone wanted to be around him, but he never looked at anyone twice.

Except me.

(And I should’ve known then—danger always comes dressed in charm.)

We drank sangria from a chipped teacup in his rooftop apartment with the broken AC and French film posters peeling off the walls. He talked about Tokyo and Tuscany in the same breath. Said he missed the ocean. Said he missed a girl who wore silver hoops and never said goodbye.

I was the replacement. I didn’t mind.

He kissed like a promise and pulled away like a curse.

We never went on dates. Just nights that blurred into mornings—his perfume on my collar, ash in my lungs, legs tangled in sheets that smelled like summer and sin.

“You’re like a prayer,” he whispered once, tracing my shoulder with a single ringed finger. “Pretty, but too easy to forget.”

I laughed. I always did. It was easier that way.

By mid-August, I stopped asking where he went when he disappeared for days. Stopped checking my phone. Stopped waiting.

Yuta was never mine. He was a fire escape kind of love—only there when things were burning.

Now it’s September, and I still wear his chain around my neck like it means something. I sit in cafés alone and order peach sangria and pretend I don’t expect him to walk in.

He won’t.

But the ghosts he left behind still do.

End.

[corpsebridxalt]

More jeno stuff?

[corpsebridxalt]

First date with Yangyang!

(Everyone pictures him like soo cool and stuff bug i just know hes shy and calm af)

I have a lot of ideas since hes my first bias!

a/n:I couldnt make up my mind and just pick something random to write

Arcade fun

Yangyang x reader

The arcade is alive with flashing lights, playful sound effects, and the hum of chatter. You and Yangyang step inside, looking around.

"Let me guess" you said "You've never been to an arcade" "I have" he says, a bit defensively. Then he shrugs. "I'm just not.... great...at some games" "Prefect!" You exclaim, dragging him towards a row of machines. "That makes two of us. We'll figure it out together!" Game 1: Basketball Hoops

The flashing lights of the arcade bounce of Yangyang's face as you drag him towards the basketball shooter game. He raises an eyebrow at the colorful setup and shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket.

"You ready to lose?" you ask, already rolling up your sleeves He lets out a soft laugh, glancing at the hoops. "We'll see about that." The machine hums to life, and the countdown begins. You grab a basketball and take your first shot-clank. It bounces wildly off the rim and Yangyang smirks.

"Great start," he teases, casually picking up his own ball and landing a clan shot of his first try

"Wait! Wait!" you turn to face him "I though you said you weren't good at arcade games?" You exclaim, you frustration growing as his score climbs higher "I didn't say I was bad either"

Game 2: Claw Machine

You stop in front of the claw machine, staring wishfully at a cute plushie in the corner.

"I'm getting that for you," Yangyang declares, his voice breaking the silents you were in "Good luck" you said "Those thing's are like totally rigged

You watch as he guides the claw carefully, his brows furrowed in concentration. On the third try, he snags the plushie and holds it up triumphantly.

"Ta-da!" he says, handing it over.

You take the plushie, unable to stop smiling. "Wow. Didn't know I was on a date with a basketball player and a claw machine expert."

"I have my talents," he says casually, though you could catch the shy grin tugging at his lips.

As the night winds down, you sit together on a bench outside the arcade, the plushie on your lap and the tickets you both won stuffed into your pockets.

"This was fun," you say, glancing at him

"Yeah," he replies softly, looking at the ground for a moment before meeting your eye. "More fun than I expected"

The lights from the arcade glow faintly in the background, but in that moment, it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

a/n: I tried my best! This is my first time writing in a long time

[corpsebridxalt]

Hi everyoneeeee

[corpsebridxalt]

Late-Night Study Sessions

Jeno x reader

College au!

Arthur note: Wrote this while watching all of us are dead, you should watch it

The library was nearly empty, the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages the only sounds filling the space. Most students had left hours ago, but you and Jeno remained, illuminated by the dim glow of the overhead lights.

You weren’t sure how long he had been watching you struggle with the same problem, but when he slid his coffee toward you, his eyes flickering with amusement, you realized he had been there longer than you thought.

“Still struggling?” His voice was quiet, but there was a teasing lilt to it.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I think math was created just to ruin my life.”

Jeno chuckled, pulling out the chair beside you. “You’re just overthinking it.” He took your pen without asking, leaning in as he flipped your notebook to a fresh page. “Here, look.”

You should’ve been paying attention to his explanation, but it was impossible when he was this close. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins on his forearms, and the way his glasses slid slightly down his nose only made him look more effortlessly cool.

“This makes way more sense,” he said, tapping the equation. “Try it.”

You took the pen, but your brain was too fogged up to focus—whether it was from exhaustion or Jeno’s presence, you weren’t sure. Your fingers brushed against his as you took the pen, and you swore you saw his lips twitch into a small smile.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Totally. Just… processing.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, watching you as you tried (and failed) to focus. “You’re not even looking at the numbers,” he teased.

Heat crept up your neck as you turned back to your notebook. “Shut up,” you muttered, making him laugh.

For the next hour, Jeno stayed by your side, his voice patient as he explained each problem. At some point, he stretched his arms behind his head and glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

You sighed, shutting your textbook. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jeno stood up, grabbing his bag before glancing back at you. “I’ll walk you home.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his expression unreadable. But the way his hand hovered slightly near yours, as if debating whether to take it, told you everything.

As you stepped out of the library together, the night air cool against your skin, you realized something—maybe math wasn’t the only thing making your heart race tonight.

[corpsebridxalt]

More jeno stuff?

[corpsebridxalt]

In Another Life

Xiaojun x Reader

Words:680

The rain was relentless, soaking through the city streets as you curled up on your couch, the dim glow of your lamp barely illuminating the living room. Outside, the world was quiet—except for the occasional rumble of thunder and the soft tapping of raindrops against your window.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

Which is why the sudden, hesitant knock at your door made your heart stop.

When you opened it, your breath caught in your throat.

Xiaojun stood there, drenched from head to toe, his hair clinging to his forehead, his black hoodie sagging under the weight of the rain. His chest rose and fell as if he had run the entire way here. And maybe he had.

“Xiaojun…” you whispered, but he only gave you a tired, broken smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside wordlessly, watching as he peeled off his wet hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted black t-shirt that did nothing to hide the way he was shivering. You handed him a towel, and he took it with a quiet “thanks” before running it through his damp hair.

For a while, there was only silence.

Then, finally—

“I saw you in the crowd tonight.”

Your heart clenched.

You had gone to the concert, standing among thousands of fans who cheered for him, for all of WayV. But unlike them, you weren’t there just to support an idol. You were there for Xiaojun—your childhood best friend, the boy who used to dream with you under the night sky, the boy who used to sing for you before the world knew his voice.

The boy who, at some point, had drifted so far from you that you weren’t sure if you were even part of his world anymore.

“You didn’t come backstage,” he continued softly, his gaze flickering to yours. “Why?”

You exhaled shakily. “Would it have made a difference?”

His jaw tightened. “Of course, it would’ve.”

“Would it?” You let out a hollow laugh. “Jun, you’re Xiaojun now. You belong to millions of people. I’m just…” You swallowed. “I’m just someone you used to know.”

His eyes darkened, and before you could react, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. “Don’t say that.” His voice was rough, desperate. “You’re not just someone I used to know.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Then what am I?”

For a moment, Xiaojun didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable—like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face, as if he knew he was running out of time.

Then, softly, almost brokenly—

“You’re the one I was supposed to love.”

The words hit you harder than you expected.

“Supposed to?” Your voice wavered.

He laughed bitterly, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah. Because I was too much of a coward to tell you back then. Because I let life pull us in different directions, and now…” He let out a shaky breath. “Now, I don’t know if it’s too late.”

The confession settled between you like an open wound—aching, raw, irreversible.

You could’ve said it back. Could’ve told him that you had loved him too, that maybe some part of you still did.

But what good would it do now?

So instead, you smiled—a sad, knowing smile.

“In another life, maybe,” you whispered.

Xiaojun’s lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, to beg time for one more chance. But he knew. He had always known.

That love, no matter how deep, sometimes just wasn’t enough.

So he nodded.

“In another life.”

And as the rain continued to fall outside, Xiaojun stood in your doorway for what felt like both an eternity and a second—before he finally turned and walked away.

And this time, you let him go.

[corpsebridxalt]

The One That Got Away

Johnny x reader

A/N:This might or might not happened me 🫢

The café smelled like coffee and vanilla, the scent wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. You traced the rim of your cup absentmindedly, letting the soft hum of conversation blend into the background. It was just another quiet afternoon—until the bell above the door chimed.

You barely noticed at first. People came and went all the time. But then, the world around you seemed to pause.

“[Y/N]?”

The voice was soft, hesitant. But it cut through the air like a knife.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. That voice. You hadn’t heard it in years, but you would’ve recognized it anywhere.

Slowly, you looked up. And there he was.

Johnny.

He stood just a few feet away, the afternoon light casting a golden glow over him. He looked… different. His features were sharper now, more refined, the kind of beauty that made cameras fall in love with him. But his eyes—the way they flickered with something unreadable—felt achingly familiar.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

He took a tentative step closer, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I—wow. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You forced a smile, though it felt wrong on your lips. “Yeah. Same.”

It was a lie. You had seen his name on billboards, on posters, on the covers of magazines. You had watched his performances from the glow of your phone screen, fingers hovering over the like button but never pressing it. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And now, he was standing in front of you, real in a way that made your chest ache.

He glanced around, as if searching for something to say. “Do you… mind if I sit?”

You hesitated for a second too long, but then you nodded. “Sure.”

The chair scraped against the floor as he sat across from you. The silence between you felt heavier than it should have.

“How have you been?” he asked, voice softer now.

You shrugged, stirring your coffee even though you weren’t planning to drink it. “Good. Just… the usual.”

He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You always said that.”

Your chest tightened. You always said that. As if he still remembered the little things about you. As if those years of silence hadn’t changed everything.

“What about you?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen in years. “Busy, I guess.”

You nodded. Of course he was. That was why he had disappeared, why the texts had slowed, why the late-night calls had turned into radio silence. He had been busy.

For years, you had tried to convince yourself that it was just that. That he hadn’t forgotten you. That he hadn’t chosen a world where you no longer fit.

But sitting here now, you weren’t sure if you still believed that.

“Why did we stop talking?” he asked suddenly.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You met his gaze, but it was hard to hold. There was something raw in his expression, something almost desperate.

You wanted to laugh. Why did we stop talking? He really didn’t know?

Or maybe he did. Maybe he just wanted you to say it out loud.

“I don’t know,” you lied, gripping your cup a little tighter. “People just… drift apart, I guess.”

He exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly. “Right.”

Silence.

Outside, cars passed by, the city moving on like nothing had changed. But here, in this tiny café, time felt like it had frozen.

There was so much you could say. So much you wanted to say.

You could tell him about the nights you stayed up staring at your phone, waiting for a message that never came. You could tell him about the way your heart had shattered the first time you saw him on stage, looking like he belonged to the world—and not to you. You could tell him that even after all this time, after all the pretending, you still weren’t sure if you had ever really let him go.

But you didn’t say any of that.

Instead, you forced another smile and said, “It’s nice seeing you again.”

It was a goodbye, wrapped in polite words.

And he knew it.

His fingers curled slightly against the table. He looked like he wanted to say something—like he was on the verge of saying something. But then, the barista called his name.

His order was ready.

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer. Then he stood up.

You watched as he walked to the counter, as he took his cup with a small nod of thanks.

And then, just like that, he was heading for the door.

Your stomach twisted.

Say something. Stop him. Ask him if he ever missed you, too

But you didn’t.

You just sat there, gripping your cup like it was the only thing keeping you steady.

As the door swung open, you saw him hesitate. His fingers clenched around his cup, his head tilting slightly—like he was waiting for something.

Like he was waiting for you.

For a second, you thought he might turn around. That he might look at you with that same soft expression from all those years ago and ask you if you wanted to start over. If you wanted to try again.

But he didn’t.

He stepped outside, disappearing into the city, into the life that had taken him away from you once before.

You exhaled, staring at the empty chair across from you.

And then, you noticed it.

Something small. Left on the table.

Your heart stuttered.

It was a bracelet. Your bracelet. The one you had given him years ago, when you were still teenagers, when you still believed in forever. It was a little worn, a little faded, but still intact. Still something he had kept.

Your fingers trembled as you picked it up, feeling the weight of it, the memories stitched into the fabric.

Johnny had left it behind.

Or maybe—just maybe—he had left it for you.

A quiet part of you wanted to chase after him, to ask him why he still had it, why he had carried it all these years.

But you didn’t.

You just sat there, staring down at the past resting in your palm.

You had spent years telling yourself you had moved on. That you were okay.

But as you traced the worn edges of that old bracelet, you realized—

Some people aren’t meant to stay in your life.

Some people are just memories, lingering like a whisper of a song you once loved.

And maybe, just maybe, Johnny would always be the one that got away.