contains sfw. fluff. reader is martin's younger sibling. mutual pining. jju sneaking away from his friends to find you. martin doesn’t know yet. kim juhoon is a little shit, yn is a little flustered. teasing & banter. neither of them has game.
warnings none.
part 2: you didn't leave but it's sort of fem!reader.
keukeu-note 🥥 based on this ask! requests are open btw ^^ also i struggle so bad with tense can we pretend like its not a thing pls only semi-proofread, feel free to point out mistakes/improvements!
passing by the living room, your steps had slowed, just enough to see your brother and his friends sprawled on the floor, controllers in hand. juhoon was there too, leaning back against the couch, half-laughing at something martin had said. nothing spectacular. just him being him. but you’d caught yourself staring a little longer than necessary.
now, back in your room, you were sitting on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, scrolling without really looking. music played softly from your laptop, and the low hum of its fan filled the space. your thoughts wandered to the living room again—the laughter, the shouting—and, unavoidably, to juhoon. that corner of your mind kept nudging you toward him, like he was still somehow there, even though you were alone.
your room was quiet in comparison. too quiet, maybe. but just enough for you to notice a small shift. a shadow spilling through the doorway.
you looked up. of course it was him. juhoon. leaning lightly against the frame, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. he looked… almost hesitant. like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there at all. his gaze flicked to you, then to the wall, before it landed on you again.
“hey,” he said, voice soft. “didn’t know you were... busy.”
your stomach did something stupid. fluttered, twisted, like it was trying to climb out of your ribs. “i’m… just working,” you managed to mutter back. voice catching on the last word, too high, too fast, too everything.
he nodded slowly, eyes darting to the laptop on your bed, then back at your face. “right… working.” the words came out slow almost as if he was considering them. “...makes sense.”
you tried to focus on the idle, totally-not-work-related screen, dragging your laptop closer as if it could somehow shield you from him.
truth is, you weren’t working, you weren’t doing anything but thinking about him. which made your chest ache in that stupid, fluttery way it always did around him.
he takes a tentative step into the room, letting the doorframe brush against his shoulder as he leans slightly forward, keeping his hands tucked in his pockets. his eyes linger on the idle screen of your laptop and the phone in your hand. his voice gains its usual teasing lilt when he speaks again. “looks more like you’re avoiding something.”
“i’m not avoiding anything,” your words come out a little mumbled. hurriedly pulling your laptop closer, as if it could somehow shield you from his gaze. but that’s where your attempt at looking busy ended. you hadn’t been working. you don’t have any work to do. and he is standing there. watching you, like it’s his favorite pastime.
“right.” his voice was even quieter now, the word teasing and drawn out. “sure. avoiding nothing.” he steps fully inside now, leaning one hand against the doorframe, tilting his head—infuriatingly so, while his other hand stays tucked into his pocket. “you good?”
you swallowed thickly, feeling the heat creeping up your neck. “i—i’m fine,” you said, realizing halfway through the sentence that you were lying. fine? fine wasn’t the word. your heart was hammering. your stomach twisting. every nerve suddenly felt too sensitive, too aware of him.
he just grins. “uh-huh.” he releases the doorframe and edges closer, resting a hand lightly on the footboard of your bed, his presence pressing in closer on your space without crowding you. “you’re lying. i can tell.”
you groaned. tilting your head back and pressing your fingers over your eyes. “…why are you like this?”
“like… what?” he teased, but the warmth in his tone made your chest ache.
“like… i—” you falter, words tangling in your throat. hands dropping from your face to grab onto your laptop again.
juhoon tilts his head, grin teasing but soft, as if he knows exactly how tangled you’re feeling and is enjoying it. “like… what, exactly?”
“like… like– i don’t know why you’re here,” you manage, voice wobbling more than you’d like to admit.
“oh, that’s rich,” he murmurs, letting go of the bed frame and plopping onto your bed sideways, legs dangling off the edge. he turns his head sideways to glance at you. “you do know, don’t you?”
you look up, cheeks warming, and catch his gaze. his eyes glint with that infuriating mixture of amusement and something softer—something that makes your chest tighten. “i… don’t,” you lie, voice barely above a whisper. your stomach twists, your pulse hammering, and your hands feel clammy.
you do know.
he hums, low and deliberate, adjusting slightly to face you more directly. “hm… really?” he says, voice teasing but careful. “you’re always… so convincing when you’re lying to me.”
you groan, burying your face in your hands again. “…why are you like this?”
“like… what?” he repeats, voice soft now, the teasing edge softened by a warmth that makes your knees feel weak.
“like… like you know exactly what you’re doing,” you mutter, peeking through your fingers at him. “and you do it on purpose.”
his grin widens. “maybe i do,” he says, leaning back on his hands, close enough now that you can smell the faint scent of his shampoo. “maybe i just like… seeing you squirm.”
you stare at him for a second before groaning dramatically and dropping your head against the wall behind you. “you’re actually insufferable.”
“that’s not what you usually look like when i’m talking.”
your head snaps back up. “usually?”
he shrugs, but there’s something almost sheepish hidden underneath the teasing curve of his smile. “i don’t know. you get this look on your face sometimes.”
“what look?”
“like you’re trying really hard not to smile.”
you immediately press your lips together.
his smile widens. “there it is.”
“oh my god.” you grab the nearest pillow and throw it at him. it hits his shoulder with a soft thud before dropping uselessly onto your bed. “shut up!”
juhoon laughs quietly, reaching a hand out to grab the pillow you just threw. “violent too. scary.”
“leave.”
“martin says that to me all the time too.”
instead of leaving, he stands, shoving the door closed only halfway, then turns back and plops onto your bed sideways, propping his head on the pillow you’d so generously given him, his legs curled up to avoid hanging off the edge.
your stomach flips.
he notices your expression immediately and lifts a brow. “what?”
“nothing.”
“you keep saying that.” because saying nothing is easier than saying you make me nervous in a way that’s genuinely embarrassing.
he adjusts slightly, his cheek pressed into the pillow under his head. “you haven’t typed a single thing since i got here.”
“maybe i type invisibly.”
“maybe you’re just bad at lying.”
you narrow your eyes at him. “you seem really confident for someone standing in his best friend’s sibling’s room right now.”
that gets him. just a little. his ears go pink before he looks away with a quiet scoff. “okay, don’t make it weird.”
you blink at him. “i’m making it weird?”
“yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck now. “you are.”
“you came in here!”
“and you let me stay.”
your mouth opens. closes again. because annoyingly enough, he’s right.
the room goes quiet for a second after that. not awkward exactly. just full. heavy in that soft way silence sometimes gets. downstairs, someone shouts loud enough for both of you to hear followed by martin yelling something incoherent back.
juhoon snorts under his breath. “they’ve been arguing about the same game for like forty minutes.”
“that’s because you all suck.”
his eyes narrow. “you all?”
“mhm.” you lean back slightly against your pillows, finally feeling your heartbeat settle a little. “you all hang out with martin— for free. that’s some kind of it’s own stupidity. sorry.”
“that’s harsh.”
“truth hurts.”
he shakes his head, smiling to himself before his gaze drifts back to you. and lingers. not in a heavy way. not intense enough to make you look away immediately. just… there. warm. comfortable.
your fingers fidget against the edge of your phone. “what?” you mumble.
“nothing,” he says lightly.
you squint. “liar.”
he grins again, smaller this time. “maybe i just like being in here more than downstairs.” your heart does something deeply unhelpful.
before you can think of a response, martin’s voice suddenly echoes from the hallway.
“juhoon?”
both of you freeze. juhoon looks toward the door immediately while you nearly drop your phone. footsteps pass by, then fade again toward the kitchen.
the silence afterward feels louder somehow.
you slowly look back at juhoon. “see? this is exactly why you should leave.”
he huffs out a quiet laugh, pushing himself up from the bed, tousled hair falling over his eyes. “yeah, yeah.”
but before he leaves completely, he pauses. glances back at you once. “you know,” he says casually, “you’re really easy to fluster.”
you grab the pillow beside you threateningly. “go away!”
the sound of his soft laughter follows him down the hallway long after he's gone.
