[š] what's your love language? [šø, 2,272 words]
ā *siri, play 'love language' by txt* (in which these are the love languages sorted out to the members)
š_martin
[āļø] when the sun goes down (šøāļø, 669 words)
ā when the world is the loudest, martin thinks of you. when the world is the quietest, martin knows you hear him.
[ā°] time well spent (šø, 563 words)
ā martin likes admiring pretty things (you).
[ā£ļø] i know i (still) love you (šøāļø, 1,143 words)
ā despite you and martin going on a break, he doesn't quite keep his end of the bargain too well (more so when you're keeping most of his).
[š] (you're) the best gift (šø, 2,445 words)
ā you were getting worked up on a gift youāve been planning on giving martinā¦ only for him to prove that heās your number one supporter time and time again.
[š§] you're all i ever want (šøāļø, 2,766 words)
ā martin reassures you he's all he ever wants. (especially on the days you think otherwise)
[š] where you go i follow (šø, 441 words)
ā just a little thrift shopping with your favourite person.
[š] so kiss me (šø, 544 words)
ā your first kiss with martin went a little like this...
[š] can't take my eyes off of you (šø, 849 words)
ā martin notices you look too good for him to ignore. (and he wholeheartedly blames you for being cruel knowing he has a deadline)
[āļø] a little latte (šø, 1,069 words)
ā martin's been visiting a cafĆØ a lot lately (and it's not for the coffee)
[š§āāļø] more of you to love (šø, 1,363 words)
ā martin asks if you (ever) think he's too tall.
[š] my heart beats in silence (šø, 392 words)
ā martin has the biggest crush on you, but he doesn't think it's the right time to confess.
[š] the greatest gift of all (šø, 1,785 words)
ā martin's fully convinced you forgot about his birthday... now who the hell is at his doorstep?
[š¼ļø] a part of you with me (šø, 685 words)
ā you keep a photo of your favourite person in your purse and said person sees it (tries not to overreact) ((definitely overreacted))
(coming soon) [š»] love like the movies (šø, xx words)
ā martin's the type of guy to show up at your place with a boombox just to cheer you up. wait... is that...?
š¦ _james
i got you (šø, 882 words)
ā james doesn't have to put up a front to the one person he lets his guard down ((you))
ā synopsis: you keep a photo of your favourite person in your purse and said person sees it (tries not to overreact) ((definitely overreacted))
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: silly fluff / word count: 685 words
[masterlist šļø]
most of the timesāif not all the timeāmartin's the one fishing out his wallet to pay for the bill. you're with me, i want to pay for you and i do just that. simple. (including some rebuttal here and there, you trying to pay for some treats in between, or you resort to buying gifts as a whole just to tally up the scores a littleāeven if no one's keeping track)
today, however, you've gone as far as to debate with martin that he should most definitely let you pay the bill. it's just a little treat! on me! wouldn't that be great?
he almost didn't let you pull through but when he saw how you jutted your chin up with the squinting of your eyes, he relents with a chuckle and a soft thank you baby.
he steps behind you with a hand on your waist, peering over your shoulder as you open your purse to tap your card on the machine. he didn't intend to snoop but his eyes naturally followed your hand movements to see your half-opened purse where there's a polaroid of himself in an extreme close up. his cheek glued to yours, eyes closed from pure bliss of being in each others' company and god, it's like he can hear your laugh from that image alone.
martin doesn't realise you're done paying when you mindlessly link arms with him to drag him out the bakery with the pastries in a brown paper bag. his senses are quick enough to grab ahold of it for you but his mind is still lagging from what he saw.
you're well-aware you're dragging this man by a thread, chuckling when you see how he's in a daze.
"what? is your blood sugar low and you can't wait to get home to eat it?"
"...purse," he mumbles, holding his hand up.
"you want to eat my purse?" you snort.
"gimme your purse," he huffs, refusing to walk.
you have to lure him towards the side of the sidewalk, fishing out your purse and handing it to him without a thought. rather, you're curious, watching as astonishment fills his eyes when he juggles the paper bag in one hand, the other (still interlocking arms with you) opening your purse to seeā"it's real."
with your head leaning against his arm, you try to understand what's going on with a soft: "yeah... we did take that photo during your birthday."
"no," he grins, unable to hide the excitement on his face as he holds it up for you to see (even though you would know, you were the one who put it in there), "you're carrying it with you. in your purse. all the time."
you laugh. genuinely laugh because of how precious martin's acting. he probably has millions of his photos plastered for the world to see but in... in this dingy almost worn out purse of yours that you refuse to give up, a photo of the pair of you slotted there is what has this boy giddy.
"take a picture, it'll last longer." you lightly elbow him and it seems to kick the gears in his head.
"oh hell yeah, i should!"
"do it at home! gimme my purse back!"
"no!" he unlinks arms with you, pastries and purse in tow. "it's mine until i'm done with it!"
before you can process it, martin's booking it.
you throw your head back with a half-yell. when you look forward, there's already some distance between you two that your feet has to begin shuffling forward before it turns to jog toā"get back here, you two meter baboon!"
"come get me!"
((you did get him when past two blocks he gave up in running and resorted to kissing your forehead as an apology for running. but he did keep your wallet until you two reached home for him to snap a bunch of photos, show off to the guys and kept staring at it even though you're right there with him. yeah, martin would say he didn't overreact at all.))
ā synopsis: james doesn't have to put up a front to the one person he lets his guard down ((you))
ā pairing: james x female!reader (established relationship) / type: fluff / word count: 882 words / mentions of nudity but not in a sexual manner
[masterlist šļø]
james was no stranger to taking care of the people around him. rather, he was grown accustom to it; as if it was second nature to him that oftentimesāmost of the timesāhe tends to leave himself out of the equation.
but there was a few places where james was viewed as a priority.
he feels seen when he sees you've laid out his pajamas on the bed, a fresh set on the linen sheets the second he steps out of the bathroom. he hears rummaging outside of your bedroom that he quickly dries himself and gets dressed. after hanging his towel next to yours, he pads out of your bedroom to see you in the kitchen cutting slices of lemon with a couple of cups next to you and the kettle on the boil. after you place some of the lemons into the cups, you wipe your hands off and wait as the grumbling in the kettle slowly begins to bubble.
he already knows the direction of where this is going when just as he arrives home moments earlier...
"hey pretty," james grins, kissing the side of your head as he pulls you in a hug. he already feels you trying to pull away that he remains stubborn, clinging onto you tighter despite your rejection.
"oh god, you stink!"
he 'affectionately' rubs his head against the side of yours, "but i'm your stinky, silly thing."
"go take a shower before i throw you into one!"
"augh," james grins, leaning back to kiss your cheek and then even more to wiggle his brows at you, "don't tempt me a with a good time."
your hand reaches to the side to hit his arm as he pulls away, body already angling to run towards the bathroom in your bedroom all whilst giggling. from the bedroom, you hear his voice bellowing: "be with you in a bit!"
your first inkling would be to ignore him and get cracking with making the pair of you something warm to drink but when you noticed a pitch in his tone, you can't ignore it. curiously, you pad over to where he is. past the door, you lean against the doorframe, tilting your head at him, "you okay? you sound a lil' scratchy."
"oh," he shrugs, mindlessly tossing his shirt into your laundry basket as he continuously strips on his way to the bathroom, "throat's just a little wonky but i should be okay," he looks over his shoulder as he reaches the bathroom door, "you're not getting rid of me that easily."
before you can press further, he blows you a kiss and disappears to the bathroom. well, at least he's listening to you to take a shower.
james can't ignore the swell in his heart, feeling so cared for with just the little gestures. the light clink of the teaspoon that meets the cup is what reels him back to the present.
he's showered, dressed in the pajamas that was taken out for him and now... now he's looking at you making what he assumes is that honey lemon ginger tea that wouldā"this is good for you, okay? i don't care if it tastes like a bitter foot."
he blinks a couple of times to realise you're talking to him.
james smiles sheepishly, as if he's caught (but really, all he is is caught staring at someone he thinks isā) "dunno what you mean," he shrugs, skirting his way into the kitchen and swirls his arms around your waist from the back; then effectively hooking his chin over your shoulder and staying like that.
"all i could think of is how pretty you are," he murmurs, planting a kiss to your shoulder and then pressing his lips there.
you scoff, shaking your shoulder to nudge at him (not exactly to rid him off), "don't you always think this drink tastes wack?"
"i mean i still do," he snorts, lifting his head up to grin at you, "but somehow it kind of works so i don't know if it's a placebo effect or if it actually helps but either one i'll take it, y'know?"
you take a deep inhale of air and exhale before remaining a grip onto the counter with one hand, the other rubbing over james' arms around you.
"as long as you drink it,"
"yes ma'am, i gotchu."
"more like i got you."
"yeah," james nods, snuggling his face into your shoulder as his eyes fall to a close, squeezing you, "you do."
while you're thinking of whether to retort, you notice how quiet he's gotten. the slight shift in atmosphere signals to you that james is probably winding down after a long day. with the way his arms droop slightly, his feet shuffling closer to place his knees directly behind yours to minimise the space. his breathing growing shallower, like he's able to... drop everything, be present.
here, with you.
you don't press further and allow him to sink into your embrace, as you sink into his.
here, james doesn't have to put up a front.
james is just... james.
that's all you get; that's all you want.
you feel another kiss to your shoulder and james' smile against your clothed skin as he stays there.
*waves* hello! will be posting some stuff soon, ik i disappeared for a bit (lifeshit) but i had the urge to write again so it'll be a short james blurb! (idk if anyone is still on here but hihello)
ā synopsis: martin's fully convinced you forgot about his birthday... now who the hell is at his doorstep?
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: fluff / word count: 1,785 words / reader calls martin 'tinnie' / for the setting of this scenario, the reader doesn't live in the country where martin currently is š» / martin's a lil' gullible one in this lol (and dramatic)
[masterlist šļø]
this is how our love story ends, martin dramatically sighs, looking at his phone to no text and no calls on his birthday. the day that he swears you hype up, down, left, right and centre until the roof breaks with how much you speak about the plans that you have for this special day only to have... nothing.
now, martin's a critical thinker (or he tries to be). he does know you have a lot of commitments in your life and you can't just drop the ball on everything but... it's his day! not even a text?! that's just mad. maybe he's mad. is he mad? is it possible for him to be mad at you for something like this? martin shakes his head at the progress of his thoughts, sighing with an arm over his eyes as he remains laying on the bed.
it was already nearing the end of the day where he's at and as he remembers the time difference between the two of you, it only pains him knowing at where you would be, his birthday had passed. he picks up his phone next to him and taps the screen, only for it to light up with all the text messages previews but none with your name on it. he mindlessly swipes them all away until his lock screen is visible; ambiguous on the surface, but martin knows it's of a time where the two of you were in a dressing room trying on cute clothes and he's giving you a hug from the back.
he groans and drops his phone onto the pillow and rolls over to his side, then ultimately face-planting himself and wishes the bed would just swallow him a whole. it's not to say he had a bad day, either. past the busy schedules, his family spamming the group chat with voice notes and pictures, fans singing him happy birthday, his members able to surprise him with a cake, a few heartfelt wishes and cards and a small gift... yet, nothing shook away the reminder that the one person he was looking forward receiving a glimmer of something from, didn't.
not even the knock on the door and james hollering for him that a parcel arrived for him could get him out of it. it's possiblyāmost probablyāthe few clothing items he ordered. but the persistence in james gradually knocking louder is what makes martin irritated.
"they need you to sign it, man! get your ass up and out the front door!"
martin grumbles a couple of curse words but he pushes himself up, "alright, alright! i'm coming!"
he opens the door to see james sneering at him and martin brushes past him with a huff, "you forge my signatures all the time and the one time you would most definitely have my consent, you don't?"
james shrugs as he follows behind martin down the hallway, "dunno man, they were pretty insistent that you signed it."
martin wordlessly mimics the words that came out of james mouth but quickly wipes all of that away when he opens the main entrance door (yeah, his parents taught him well).
"hi, yeah, where do i sign?" martin's looking down at the box in front of him, being held by someone much smaller than his stature as he reaches out to grab onto the pen. he signs a fake signature onto the paper and intends to just take the box and head in but a hand stops him to point onto the paper he just signed.
"huh? what?" he's confused, but he squints that he signed the terms that he would need to open the box and check before accepting it.
"i've never heard of that before, this is insane." martin looks over his shoulder to see james shrugging, "just do it man. it's yours anyway, right?" martin's debating on it as he gives a slow nod, but stops himself when james continues: "unless you bought weird underwear, then maybe don't do it."
martin rolls his eyes, "i didn't buy weird underwear!"
"then open it!"
"fine!"
martin whips back around and courteously gives a bow out of respect (and apologetic that this delivery person has to witness and listen to their nonsense). he tears open the seal and the millisecond the box opens, confetti pops everywhere and martin lets out a shout as he drops the box. instinctively, he looks up to seeānoāoh my god. oh my god! martin realises he has a voice and finds it to exclaim: "oh my god!"
"i'm sorry i'm a little late, my flight got delayed and iā"the words get trapped in your throat when martin pounces onto you, nearly backing you a couple of steps back with the amount of adrenaline that's flowing through his veins. but he catches you, he reels you in and keeps you grounded against him as he holds you tight. martin hears the prettiest sound in the world; the sound of your laugh ringing in his ears as your arms instinctively wrap around him to reciprocate his hug (even though it's a bit of a challenge with the way he's trapping you).
"you're here, you're here!" martin rambles, almost in disbelief, pulling back frantically to look at you peering up to him with a wide smile. you don't say anything, allowing martin to use both hands to cup your face as he lowers himself down to lean his forehead onto yours, needing to feel all of you to make sure this is real, not sure cruel joke from up above making fun of his incredible longing for you.
"you're actually here... oh my god..." you watch how his pupils are shaking as he tries to scan both of your eyes thatā"tinnie, stop that. it's making me dizzy."
"you're here," martin says again, leaning back to get a good look at you, as if he's repeating it to get it into his head more than anything else. "holy shit..." his mouth hangs open, shaking his head as he holds your face in his hands.
"happy birthday, tinnieā!"your words get cut off again when martin swoops down to kiss you, letting his body go on overdrive. his body moves faster than he can stop himself (and he quite frankly, he can't help it). you're still laughing, teeth hitting his and breaking the kiss that he whines. he pulls back and tries to kiss you again, only for you to stop him by placing your hands on his face to keep him steady.
it's like he's in a trance, captive under your spell and fallen into the highs of your presence that he lets you guide him. his heart is about to fly out of his chest with how fast its beating but you're soothing his nerves just by looking at him softly. as you gently lure him down to you, his hands fall to your waist as he pulls you the same time you pull him; like two magnets that were meant to be close, close once more.
the kiss you give him is sweet, addicting that one small kiss isn't enough. when you pull back, he chases for your lips and kisses you again, and again, until he nearly forgets he's not entirely alone with the sounds of gagging and disgust fill his ears. today is the one day he doesn't care; it's his day, and you're here. he'll take all he can get.
it's not until you start giggling when you hear james voice lowly saying damn, at this point we'll need to seal off the premises that it pains you but you had to stop martin from kissing you. he groans, but he quickly recovers when you blink up to him and he lets sink in his bones the proximity between the pair of you. he lightly thumps his forehead on yours as he gazes into your eyes, sighing, "i can't believe you're actually here..."
your hands give his face a squeeze, trying to convince him that you're actually here. then, you whisper a mere breath away from his lips: "happy birthday, handsome."
you watch as the biggest smile poke the corners of his lips. how bright his eyes sparkle as he finally digests that you're here with him. his body's shaking a little, from all the nerves of excitement that you carefully pull him down so you can give him a hug (in huge contrast to the way he glued himself to you earlier). past martin's hunched shoulders, you chuckle when you see the rest of the boys waving at you with shape shift party streamers and party hats from their leftover celebration for martin earlier.
"sorry i'm late," you mouth at them, and they merely wave a hand, "you're the present itself." james sing-songs, as if he's not the same person snapping a dozen images with the aid of the rest of the boys willing to do the same so they'd use this as bait for their leader later on.
but said leader is none the wiser as he succumbs to your embrace willingly. (eh, he'll find a way to get those images on his own some way some how. for now? he'll enjoy this piece of heaven granted on his special day)
(("this is insane..." martin murmurs, watching how you're laying atop his upper arm, as he fold his elbow up to play with the strands of your hair. beneath the shared blanket, one of your arms are wedged between your bodies, flat on his chest as you feel the rhythmic beat of his heart along your palm. you smile as your free hand travels up to pillow against his cheek.
"did you think i forgot your birthday?" you ask quietly, watching as his eyes flutter shut against your touch. he shakes his head, using his free hand to slip over your waist to pull you closer.
"i was damn near certain you wouldn't but the longer it got, if i'm being honest, i was starting to think so," he answers, eyes peeling open to see how you're chuckling. he adores the connection you two have; the honesty laid bare in such a respectful yet there's this tinge of understanding from both sides. "but you always seem to surprise me," he snorts, still twirling the strands of your hair through his fingers.
you lean forward to kiss his chest, looking up to him with a huff, "never doubt me."
he dips down to press his lips to your forehead, before curling you into his embrace as he tucks you close to him, steady breathing and calm heartbeats guiding the two of you into slumber: "roger that."))
ā synopsis: martin has the biggest crush on you, but he doesn't think it's the right time to confess.
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: cheesy fluff / word count: 392 words / the reader is lowkey adopted into the friend group bc of martin
[masterlist šļø]
martin thinks he's the slickest person in the world. the planet. the universe.
he thinks he's able to hide it all; even if the people around him says otherwise. they prove it to him, too. giving him a reality check every now and then especially when he doesn't want it.
still, he's grateful that his group (of friends) treat you like an extension of him. like how they extend the invitation to you when they head out for movies, or how they make sure you know you're welcomed whenever you visit their dormitory for food, or... like now, when you're situated across from martin as you argue with keonho on whether you should get one flavour of pizza or two.
the kind of argument that has no malice, the kind that erupt laughters from all sides, including martin when he mindlessly votes to side with your decision. it allows him to see how you smugly puff your chest out and wipe the non-existent dirt from your shoulder, towards keonho who rolls his eyes and starts bugging james to side with him instead.
during all the chaos, martin thought he's being very incognito with his expressions but apparently it doesn't seem to slide past you when you turn the cheek andā"you okay?"
martin seemingly blinks to the present, nodding into his chin as he keeps his elbow propped onto the table with a smile. he nearly folds when you lean forward, closer towards him with a squint. wordlessly, he can hear your voice when you raise your brow: you sure?
he scoffs a laugh and nods, sliding his free hand over across the table to hold his hand facing up. it's a silent cue for you to put your hand in his, giving it a light shake and ultimately forgetting to let go when you proceed to verbally argue with keonho on his choice of flavour pizza again.
martin just hopes you don't feel how hard his heart is beating through his fingertips, but he'll gladly relish on the feeling of being able to hold your hand.
((beneath the table, juhoon slyly kicks martin's shin. the latter glances over and now notices juhoon's shit-eating grin and seonghyeon's quiet-not-obvious-but-obvious methods of taking photos of how you're holding onto martin's hand but is too immersed arguing with keonho.))
ā synopsis: martin's been visiting a cafĆØ a lot lately (and it's not for the coffee)
ā pairing: martin edwards x barista.female!reader / type: cheesy fluff, meet-cute-ish / word count: 1,069 words / the '09 twins strike in this one
[masterlist šļø]
mondays have been a little different than usual lately. it normally starts with the mundanity of life as it reels you in; sure, it was for the money, but overtime finding the little bits in life to enjoy made it all the more bearable (occasionally one or two entitled customers in the mix does make you wonder what jail time for poison would be like).
then came a new patron dinging past the doors regularly on mondays. initially, sparingly. with time, it became aā"the regular?"
"yes please," martin grins, already tapping his card for payment. as you grab onto the plastic cup, you hold the black marker and glance at him to see he's already trying toā"hey, no peeking. you're ruining the surprise,"
he huffs and roots his feet back to the ground (as if he needed much peeking with all that height on him), "just wanted to see what words of wisdom you'll fill me in with today."
"do me a favour, yeah?"
"yeah?"
"remove the cup holder once you step out."
he squints at you with a playful grin, "what's up with that?"
"either do as i say or you're not getting any words of wisdom today."
he has his hands up in front of his chest, "okay, okay. damn... the words of wisdom is feisty today."
past a couple of beats of the coffee brewing and people walking past, you two break out in soft chuckles and martin's left to allowing you to do your job as he quietly steps to the side to wait for his drink. it's a few minutes but he always waits patiently. he has his hands in his pockets, his earphones strung around his neck as he likes listening to the ambience in the coffee shop along with the quiet admiration of you making his drink with such thought, care and efficiency. you don't need to call for his name when you slide the drink across the counter into martin's hand ready to capture it.
the slight brush of your fingertips is what makes him blush, but you're about to crawl into a hole with what you know is about to come. "t-thanks," he clears his throat, holding the cup up in a subtle cheers.
"you're welcome."
"see you soon, yeah?"
you gulp and nod, "y-yeah. have a good one."
martin's about to question on your indifference today but he decides not to press on it. wishing you a good day before he nods on his way out. the second he steps out, he moves to the side away from the entrance where his back is facing the glass window. you watch as he removes the cup holder and based on his body language, you can't tell if heāoh, is he... he's in shock.
you watch as he snaps his back around and searches for your eyes past the slight fog of the glass. he quickly wipes it and points to the cup where your handwriting... left your phone number.
"deadass?!" you hear the muffling of his yell past the doors that it makes you laugh. even though martin can't hear it, the sight of it is what makes his heart melt.
you nod and hold a hand up in a phone gesture, holding it to your ear.
martin tries to gain his composure, nodding quickly as he grins, doing a similar gesture as he half-yells (unaware you can literally read his lips, and hear him with how loud martin can be). "i'll call you!"
you hold up a o.k. sign, and martin only bows out of respect to what seems to be your manager who ropes you back into work.
martin's high on adrenaline now; and it's not the caffeine.
((in the down times of the coffee shop, a ding signals a customer... or two that appear in front of you. after they order their drinks and they're waiting at the side, you hear low murmurs of them talking but you can't quite make up what they're saying.
they bring it to your attention whenā"hey, excuse me?"
you turn the cheek after pouring the milk into one of their lattes, a soft "yeah?" escaping your lips as you instinctively step closer towards them.
"by chance, are you y/n?"
the two boys watch as your eyes widen, but relax as you nod, "yeah. can i help you?"
"actually, yeah you can," one of them answers; the one with a backwards cap grins. the one with the beanie, next to him, is the one that hits his arm with a soft you can't just say that.
"well, what i meant to say was, we were thinkingā"the latter cuts him off,"āwe're friends of martin and we're curious, are you interested in him?"
you watch as the guy with the beanie groans and rolls his eyes, "for fuck's sake..."
they seem to feel somewhat at ease when you chuckle, sliding their drinks over with a small nod.
"i guess so? he's kind of cute."
that seems to have the both of them beyond excited at your response. well, for one they act all disgusted, but eventually, their true intentions surface when they devise a small plan with you that has you nodding.
//
during your lunch break, you feel a couple of buzzes on your phone in your back pocket as you're fishing your items from your locker. after closing it shut, you feel anxious upon seeing an unknown number but the reminder of this morning's events makes you feel giddy instead.
[unknown | 2.12pm] hi :) it's martin
[unknown | 2.12pm] thanks for giving me your number haha
[unknown | 2.13pm] is it weird if i ask if you wanted to get coffee some time?
each ticking second martin feels the sweat nearly breaking him apart but the second he hears his phone buzzing, he's already pouncing on his phone.
[y/n āļøāļø | 2.14pm] hi martin!
[y/n āļøāļø | 2.14pm] yeah i would love to :)
martin's having a war cry of joy, and thankful he's alone in the room.
//
"i can't believe he's cheesing that hard over a bunch of texts," keonho snorts, watching as martin is oggling over his phone in the middle of the empty practice room.
seonghyeon chuckles, taking a few photos, "shhh... we'll take credit later," a couple of clicks later, seonghyeon grins with a bit of blackmail, "let him be happy now."))
ā synopsis: martin asks if you (ever) think he's too tall.
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: comfort fluff / word count: 1,363 words / reader calls martin 'tinnie'
[masterlist šļø]
the afternoon settles into your lazy bones; the warmth of the day makes it difficult to want to do anything. it's not like you had plans anyway, and martin's more than happy just laying on the sofa with you. his head is propped on one end of the sofa as he extends his arm out for you to curl into his embrace with your phone propped up onto his chest.
the television left ignored, mere background noise as you and martin scroll on your respective phones and occasionally poke at each other. days like these felt calming, wholesome; basking in each other's presence.
it was all going fine, until martin's thumb hovers over his phone screen, stopping at a specific thing that's on his internet feed. it gets him to shift a little, clearing his throat as he nudge the side of your head with his, "babe,"
"mm?" you hum, eyes still glued to your phone; a random meme that makes you scoff a laugh that you had intended to show martin butā"baby," martin's voice dips down in tone a little.
"yeah?" you answer, glancing up from your phone only to see martin already looking at you. that evokes the reaction of you locking your phone, placing it flat on his chest as you look up to him, full attention on him. "yeah?" you repeat, now using your free hand to curl around his waist. he mimics your actions by putting both of your phones away, easily sliding them onto the coffee table nearby before he puts his other arm around you.
"can i ask you something?"
"was that it?"
"..."
"damn, tough crowd today," you mutter under your breath, lightly rubbing his lower back in attempts to make amends. "okay, okay. what?"
you watch as martin glances down to stare at a spot on your shoulder, something you notices he does when he's a nervous.
"don't laugh, okay?" he prefaces, looking up to see you snort, "you can't just say that and expect me toā"he huffsā"c'mon! please?"
to be fair, he rarely says that...
you sigh and manage to lean back a little, drawing a tiny cross on your chest, "swear."
keeping quiet, you give him the time he needs. internally, your mind is racing a million different thoughts of the outcome. this could be either really cute, or really tragic. either way, you're prepared for it.
"do you... you know..." he lets out a deep breath, deciding to come out with it, "ever think i'm too tall?"
okay, you weren't exactly expecting for that.
"oh,"
martin doesn't know how to feel when you look a little surprised. maybe it was a good thing? was it a bad thing? should he not be asking this, should he be asking this orā"do you want the long answer or the short one?"
you watch as martin's features fall flat, "are you making fun of me right now?"
with the way your face contorts, martin knows you're not. you watch as martin watches you, and the realisation hits as quickly as the apology that flies out of your mouth.
"oh shit, tinnie. i'm so sorry that's not what i meant. i should've used a different word but," you sigh, shaking your head, "the short answer is no."
martin blinks at you.
you blink back at him.
he cranes his neck to the side a little, brows raised as if he's expecting something, "and...?"
"well," you huff, using a hand to poke his chest and keeping your finger there, "you didn't say you wanted the long answer."
martin lets out a deep breath and reaches up to grab onto your hand poking his chest. he effortlessly slides his fingers between yours, bringing up your hand to his lips where he kisses the back of your hand before he asks: "may i please have the long answer?"
you start smiling, lowering your hand in his so you can look at him properly and martin's already all ears when he knows he has your full attention. it's not like you were putting a front or anything; it's the genuinity and the sincerity in your intentions that somehow soothes his rather tensed nerves.
"when has being tall ever been a bad thing, tinnie?"
it was a rhetorical question, but martin shrugs anyway, lowering his gaze away.
you sigh and bring his hand up to your lips so you can kiss the back of his hand, giving him a small squeeze so he looks into your eyes.
"being tall is such a plus point. quite frankly, it's an advantage for me."
he doesn't respond with words, but with the way his brows perk up, you can tell he wants you to elaborate.
"you find me so easily whenever i'm around. whenever you're up on stage, you're all i pay attention to and it's great because i want to. and while there's a lot of great things to being tall, that's not all that defines you, tinnie." you give him a small pat to the chest with your free hand, the one that's away from his grip that loosens, much like the strings in his chest somehow coming undone. maybe it was you, maybe it was your voice, maybe it was all of the above.
"sure, people might first perceive you as someone tall but once they get to know you, they leave thinking you're such a talented, bright and warm individual that your height is just a side note."
when you're done, or when you feel like you've said most of everything you had thought to say, it gets awfully quiet. the kind of quiet that makes you self-conscious into thinking if you made things better or worse.
you press your lips to a thin line and give his hand a shake to gather his attention, unsure of where his mind is at. more so when you can't see his eyes with the way he's staring at a spot on your shoulder.
"did i... make things better or..."
it was your turn to smile when you realised his quietness, was an admission to feeling shy with the compliments you've showered him with. his cheeks are starting to turn pink and his ears are slowly turning red. he tries to let go of your hand, feeling how clammy they're becoming and it makes you chuckle.
"tinnie, are you blushing?"
he manages to escape his hand from your grasp to cover his own cheek (well, half of it anyway). "girl stop playing, you have no business making me fold so quickly."
you laugh, full on laugh because of the sight alone. it's rare to see martin get shy, but for some reason, for you, it came so effortlessly. he was normally oozing with confidence on stage but you know past those highs, martin's remained humble. right here, in front of you, he was just martin. no limelights, no jewels or sequins, no cameras.
just martin.
he starts laughing with you when he sees how... how it all didn't matter. it may cross his mind from time to time, and for sure he'll bring it up again when he needs to but with the words that you've assured him with and how you're looking at him like all of that was never a factor in the first place, that's what gets martin to feel at ease.
(("by the way," your voice fills martin's ears as you take out one side of his earphones as he's hunched over his laptop on your vanity table, "i forgot to mention one more thing,"
"hm?" he looks over his shoulder, noticing your smile up close as you hover near him.
"with you being tall and all, for me, that's more of you to love."
you effortlessly slot his earphone and press a kiss to his cheek, before reach for your phone beside his laptop. then, you disappear out of the bedroom (with telltales that you're off to laze in the living room).
martin slides down onto your chair and pulls on his hoodie, feeling the blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiles.
i can't believe i'm a simp for my own girl.))
ā synopsis: martin notices you look too good for him to ignore. (and he wholeheartedly blames you for being cruel knowing he has a deadline)
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader (works at the same company) / type: fluff / word count: 849 words
[masterlist šļø]
two knocks on the studio door doesn't seem to faze martin from his spot, being hunched over the tiny table with his equipment strewn everywhere. his mind is deep in the process of trying to wrap up the track he's been working on; when he's in the zone, he in it. the door opens on its own accord and he only notices when the door closes with a click.
he turns the cheek to see who came in and his jaw is on the floor.
for someone who was moving at the speed of light with his hand movements, switching from keyboard to his beat pad, back to adjusting the settings on his computer, he's gone awfully still.
you lift a hand up to give him a small wave, "hi?"
it's a couple of beats before martin realises he has to function.
"why do you look like that?" martin's eyes are widening by the second. any bigger and you'd think they'd pop out of his eye sockets.
"what?" you snort, glancing down to your outfit, "does it look that bad?"
martin huffs and ditches his headset on top of the rest of his equipment, swirling on his chair until he reaches you to grab ahold of your hands. he grips it with earnest, as if he's pouring his heart through his fingertips, "no, i meant why do you look so good for? do we..." he gulps, panic almost filling his veins, "...are we supposed to go out and i forgot or..."
you shrug and take another look to your outfit; it wasn't anything out of the ordinary but you did put in a bit of thought today in terms of colour coordination and texture pairings, so maybe that was the difference he was trying to deduce. you give his hands a squeeze, gazing back up to meet with his eyes already in a daze the longer he stares at you.
"i just felt like wearing this today. why?" you remove a hand from his to put it on your hip, "do i look weird?"
he shakes his head and leans back to get a better look, sighing, "you look so good..." he slyly lifts his arm and makes you twirl, to which you oblige with a chuckle. he groans and throws himself back onto the chair, using a hand to pull you towards him as you step between his legs; used to the proximity as your knees bump alongside his.
"how the hell do you look like that and i'm still stuck here?"
past his squinting eyes, he huffs, already having a conversation with himself.
"now we have to go out. ain't no way you look that good and i'm not taking you out."
there's a moment of silence and martin hates that you know.
with your hand in his, you give it a shake and snort.
"i feel like there's a but coming,"
"but..."
"there it is."
he groans, shaking his body childishly. he keeps your hand in captivity as he flings it arms up and about.
"i have this one track to get done before i can go!" he half-glares at you, squeezing your hand, "and then you come in here looking like that, distracting me andā"
"i can leaveā"
"and so you must stay here until i'm ready to go," he stubbornly tugs onto your hand so you're forced to stay close to him. it got easier for you to sit on his lap as he swirls closer towards the table; as if he's trapping you with him (he is) and he makes you stay like that with him despite letting your hand go. every time you try to wiggle out of his grasp, he stubbornly holds you near past his equipment and his attempts to getting his work done.
it was useless trying to debate with him on his work efficiency if you just gave him his space but hey, if this is the way he wants to work, you had no objections if you could have him this close to you.
every now and then, he has to fend for himself when you playfully decide to brush his hair back (to which he combats with you can't keep doing this to me! i already feel pressured!!!), tiny puffs of air tickling his neck when you nuzzle into him or the giddy feeling he gets when he feels your arms snaking around his neck. it nearly has him in a chokehold until he remembers he's the one who wanted this, and his working efficiency decreases to nearly 80% but... when martin gets to have glances of your pretty smile up close, those eyes he swears have stars embedded in them with the soft cooing of your voice along with the melody he's building... he'll take it as this is as close to heaven he'll get. (and it extends longer into the night when martin finally finishes his work an hour later and gets to take you on a dateābut to you, to him, the date started the second you stepped into the room).
ā synopsis: your first kiss with martin went a little like this...
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: cheesy fluff / word count: 544 words / reader and martin are in an established relationship
the walk home had been nerve-wrecking and an absolute nightmare of a disaster stirring up in martin's gut at the thought of what he's thinking of trying to do. he's been a bit antsy all day; light shuffles of his feet accidentally bumping each other (but you were there to catch him), the constant fidgeting of his knees beneath the table (but a light hand on his kneecaps gets him to stop) and now...
now he doesn't know what or how to function when he's already walked you to your doorstep.
underneath this dingy streetlamp, martin still thinks you look ethereal. unreal. surreal. way beyond his imagination.
he's unwilling to let you go but allows you to unlink arms with him so you can fish out your keys to unlock your door. it's now or never, martin. he sucks in a breath and exhales deeply, eyes watching the back of your head as the click of the door opens and he swallows thickly when you push the door. your feet brings you to turn around, blinking up to martin who steps forward with a small smile.
"thanks for walking me home, martin."
he nods and uses a hand to reach out and almost automatically, his smile widens when he sees how you already reach halfway to hold his hand.
"yeah, of course,"
then, it happens.
martin has to blink a couple of times to process what happened; but it replays in slow motion in front of his eyes as he stares into yours. the quick tiptoe as you reach forward, giving his lips a peck. the slight shuffle back when you grin at him, your hand squeezing his tightly. he knows; he feels it in his veins - it's going to happen now.
"w-wait," he calls out softly, using the grip he has on your hand to keep you rooted near him, lightly tugging on it so you step closer to him. he carefully lets go of your hand as his hands come up to frame your cheeks. it makes you shudder upon feeling how cold his hands are, that slowly warm up against your face as he tilts your face up to him.
your hands; meekly finding their way on his waist, gripping onto the material of his hoodie as he steps in and leans down.
"can i?" he asks; in a mere whisper, a gentle inquiry for permission.
you nod and graze your nose along his.
he dips down and you feel it. the softness of his lips as he kisses you; slow, nervous, trembling with anxiety and nervousness at the thought of being able to do this. but then, it mellows out. like a rhythm of give and take. it's not perfect but it's the feel and taste of martin; and that's yours.
he pulls back and gently leans his head on yours. the biggest smile etching his lips.
"i've been wanting to do that for a while now," he admits, suddenly growing shy from his own words as he realises how it might've sounded. you shake your head and lean up to give him a small kiss, murmuring after: "me too."
if martin could describe the perfect person, he wouldn't need to.
ā synopsis: just a little thrift shopping with your favourite person.
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: fluff, silly / word count: 441 words
[masterlist šļø]
it wasn't an abnormal thing for you to go thrift shopping with martin. it's one of his favourite things to do (despite you questioning how many clothes, shoes, jackets, bags or socks he ownsāyou get it, the guy owns a department store at this point but at least it's one that he supplies himself). it felt therapeutic but also a fun little date between the two of you.
he keeps a finger on one of the belt loops of your pants, trailing behind you as he follows you slowly. his eyes are scanning through the clothes, sifting past the jackets and flashes of colour but he's mindless in his thoughts; not really seeing anything he likes or wants. he notices you stopping and it gets him to stop, too.
"show me," he murmurs, leaning against your back as he hovers his lips beside your ear. his finger on your belt loop slides forward as he uses a hand to hold onto your hip.
your arms lift it up and you shift back a little to lean into his chest, head tilting as the both of you are now looking atā"i'm pretty sure you have something like that at home," martin comments and you huff, lightly nudging him with your elbow, "but i don't have one in this colour,"
you turn the cheek and make eye contact with him, who squints at you with a grin. as if you just received a mental note from him that you lower your arms down and turn to put the hanger back, "you're right. i need to save my quota for something else,"
your feet continues moving but not entirely until after you feel a kiss to the top of your head and martin chuckling, "you act as if you're paying for this."
"hey, i got my own money," you snort, hands sifting through the fabric. martin chuckles behind you, "mhm, never doubted it baby."
as you pad down the aisles, martin follows you closely. every now and then he tugs on your belt loops to get you to stop walking so you can see what he's picked out and chat a little whether you should be the one wearing it. it's either he puts it back and it was your turn to pick something, or vice versa. a continuous cycle as you explore the shop together, somehow in your small little bubble of making each other smile, laugh and blush all in one. (while martin's thinking he'll remember these little moments whenever he's in a thrift shop somewhere else where you're not by his side, but you're there somewhere in his mind).
ā synopsis: martin reassures you he's all he ever wants. (especially on the days you think otherwise)
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: fluff, a (tinge) of angst if you squint / word count: 2,766 words / reader calls martin 'tinnie' (and 'edwards' for fun) / martin calls reader 'lovie'
life as of late has been mundane; a little exciting every now and then but for the most part, this is how you like it. a minor inconvenience to your day doesn't faze you, a little redirection to something better (or that's what you tell yourself because if you stub your toe on the sofa again, it's either this mantra or burning it). the quiet and the peace in your life is balanced by... your dating life. boy... because that's something.
everyone knows him as the glitz and glamour of a budding boy group. the uprising talent of the new generation; the rise of a new era. the fresh faces of a company with a promising futureā¦ which is a bold claim but so well-deserved. and you donāt doubt it for a second. you have full belief and faith in their talent and their determination and luck that theyāve accumulated so far.
while youāre happy for themāfor himāyou would be lying to say if it didnāt make you reflect on yourself and your life. which is not coming from any stem of negativity butā¦ thatās what makes us human, doesnāt it? both of your lives were drastically different. there's people in continents that you haven't heard of that would know his full government name, his birthdate, his signature, the details of his face, the discography and biography of his life. on the other hand, you wouldn't want just anybody to know your personal details.
the difference was enough to keep you up at night.
before you can soak in the melodramas of a possible existential crisis, a phonecall buzzes you from your doomed spiraling reverie. a face of someoneās profile picture that automatically makes you smile and swipe to answer without hesitations.
āhey tinnie,ā you try your best to sound optimistic, hoping that the static through a phone call would mask... whatever the hell you're feeling internally.
"gosh," martin sighs, "you don't know how happy i am to hear your voice."
you scoff a laugh (even though his words make your heart bloom), "always the sweet talker, huh edwards?"
"hey, that's not my name to you," he huffs, and in the background you can hear telltales ofā"anyway, i'm like, fifteen minutes away. just gonna drop by the convenience store to get you that ice cream you like, yeah?"
he's probably had a long day of schedules but in the wee hours of 12am, he's thinking of you and buying ice cream for you on the way.
"you sure you wanna come over? you must be really tired."
"what?" you hear him huff (probably he's pouting right nowāhe is), "you don't wanna see me?"
"god forbid i care about my boyfriend, edwards."
there's a small pause of silence before the two of you erupt in soft laughters. you can hear the ding of the convenience store bell that signals he's awfully close. with a couple of virtual kisses and byebyebye, love you see you bye! he hangs up. you heave a deep sigh and look up to the mirror in front of you, from across your bedroom you tell yourself mentally that you've got to suck it up.
//
all it takes is fifteen minutes before you know what's about to come. martin arrives nearly five minutes after his phone call with you and gives you a bunch of smooches on his way past the door, once he's in your home, and before he settles on the sofa with you. when the ice cream is long gone, martin's fiddling with the ice cream stick as he tells you about his day and vice versa. it was nice, comforting, andā"hey lovie?"
"yeah?"
"can i ask you something?"
oh fuck.
martin waits, like the gentleman he is until he sees you nodding at him slowly. he tosses the ice cream stick onto the table (where it lands on the wrapper) before he scoots closer to you. even with your knees folded up to your chest in front of him doesn't stop him from being able to hug your knees to pull you closer.
"am i... am i reading too much or are you not okay?"
well, martin almost always never beat around the bush.
"what?" you snort, trying to back away from him but martin's persistent, locking you down with the squinting of his eyes. "see, i'm right. you're doing that thing when you lie to me."
"what thing?" you hate that your voice cracked.
"see! there it is again!"
"tinnie, what are you on aboutā"martin squeezes your knees to get you to stop talking, and it does. your breath hitches in your throat when he calls you out on: "you didn't even try to answer me... doesn't that tell me something already?" martin waits a little, but realises he could be a bit harsh that he leans in to rest his chin atop one of your kneecaps, peering up to you with a soft gaze, "what're you hiding from me, lovie?"
martin sees the storm brewing. the heaving of your chest, how your breath gets ragged just at the thought of you trying to form your sentences for him. your arms, hug yourself tighter, almost clenching onto fists in the material of his your sweater you're wearing and the watering of your eyes grabs the living life out of martin's chest.
"hey, no no no," martin rambles out, trying to get closer to you when you shift away as the first wave of tears get the best of you. but curse this guy being near two meters that he effortlessly reels you in, almost cocooning your knees together with your entire being when you try to hide.
"c'mon, don't push me away," martin half-begs, his voice strained from a day's long of singing and rapping that it nearly gives out but it never does when it's you. the thought alone makes you cry harder that you relent, unwilling to fight it when your knees come down and that's when he swoops in. he puts his arms around you, pulling you flush onto his lap. he makes your legs dangle off the sofa and everything falls into place like clockwork; as if your body is accustom to his and the way the two of you function together.
you press your face to his chest, crying and clutching onto him like a lifeline while on the other side, martin's scrambling in his brain trying to think if there's anything that could've happened but... nothing pops up. regardless, he strokes the back of your head, keeping his hand there, while the other straps around your waist to stable you on him. it's been seconds, minutes, that gather themselves into a few passing minutes that you're able to calm down.
with a soft pat to martin's back, he reluctantly lets go of you enough for you to lean back so he can get a good look at your face. his hand from the back of your head moves to pillow against your cheek, brushing away the stray couple of tears.
the silence makes you self-conscious as you sniff, using the back of your hand to rub your nose with a huff. "i probably look horrible,"
he tuts, "you're still the prettiest thing i know."
you sigh and look down to how your body settles with his and it pinches your chest. the thought of you being with him makes you so happy, but you can't help but wonder if this is enough for him. if past the highs of his life that he experiences, would it ever come near to what you're able to provide for him.
"there you go again," martin says softly. you look to notice that you're internalising everything and you finally see the pain behind martin's eyes as he gazes at you. as if he's trying to read your mind. "talk to me," he murmurs, leaning his head on yours, "please."
you try to move away to speak but he whines, following you that he remains glued to you. it makes you chuckle as you stay in place, and that gets martin to smile.
"it's... gonna sound a bit stupidā"
"doubt it."
"i don't know where to start."
"anywhere is fine. just..." martin gives you room as he's the one who leans back for you to comfortbly speak, "...please don't shut me out."
you nod quietly, trying to form the words in your head as your hands move from martin's shoulders down to grab onto the one that's resting behind the nape of your neck. you start playing with his fingers, brushing over the black nail polish and circling around the silver rings. it's a habit martin notices you do when you're vulnerable, and that signals he's about to get the truth.
"i... i've been thinking, y'know?" you start off quietly, almost a mere whisper but martin catches all the syllables. he nods, even though he knows you're not looking.
"your life... my life... it's so different. half the world probably knows your name and i," you snort, "i still get shy telling the barista my name for my coffee order. and it got me thinking," you look up, avoiding his gaze as the tears begin to well up but martin can see you're fighting them to get your words out, "it got me thinking, am i ever enough for the life that you're living?" martin begins shaking his head but he doesn't say anything just yet, he wants to hear it. he feels you squeezing his hand but he keeps his eyes on you. "i... guess i don't know. i try not to think about it but it's hard when it's just there, y'know?"
martin nods slowly, even if he doesn't agree with what you're saying. but he's listening.
"are you... breaking up with me?" martin doesn't want to know the answer, but he knows he has to ask.
that gets you to look at him with your lips lightly pressed together. the tears already rolling down your cheeks as you shake your head, "you know the answer to that, tinnie." you swallow the sob threatening to come out, gazing down to your hands holding his, "you're all i ever want."
"then ask me the same question, lovie," martin straightens his back, gently leaning his head on yours as he sees your eyes closing (but he somehow feels like you're still looking at him).
"do you want to break up with me?"
"i can't ever bring myself to do that," martin's voice cracks, and your eyes peel open to see that he's got tears in his eyes just thinking about it. "you're all i ever want."
he takes in a deep breath, and then he asks: "can i be honest?"
you nod.
"there are days where i wonder the same thing. whether i'm enough for you."
those words alone make your eyes widen, gaping.
"i'm not around a lot, y'know? i can't see you all the time, and there are days where i'm halfway across the world from you and all i get to do is send you photos, videos and voice notes hoping that they're enough. i see couples around me all the time who are probably with each other all the time and i miss you on the days i'm away," his breathing gets heavy, and you can tell he's about to cry but he's trying to trudge through his train of thought. with the weight he's feeling through his words, it's the same feeling you've slept off on the nights you felt the same.
"i miss you on the days i'm even with you because i know i have to cherish them before i go away again. i hate that i can't be with you on all your bad days, i hate that i can't be with you as much as i would like to. those days... when those days come, i wonder whether i'm enough for you. whether i'm selfish to keep you to myself when i know i can't be here a hundred percent."
you heave a deep sigh, moving one of your hands from his hand to put it on his cheek. he leans into your touch almost instantly and lets his eyes close as he breathes quietly. he inhales and exhales, feeling at ease and a bit lighter from being to get it out of his chest. a few beats go by before martin opens his eyes to see you looking at him like that. he turns his face slightly to kiss your palm, before he says: "how can you expect me to let you go when you keep looking at me like that?"
you use your thumb to poke his cheek, "like what?"
"like you love me,"
"maybe because i do,"
"good," martin chuckles, moving his arms to put them around you and giving you a squeeze. he leans forward, hooking his chin on your shoulder as he nuzzles into you, "so please don't feel like you're going through this alone, okay?" he kisses your shoulder before staying there, "i'm here."
you meekly snake your arms around him before pressing a kiss to his shoulder and staying there, too. past the quiet breathing, your chuckle is what makes martin's heart skip a beat at the sound (it is a sound he loves hearing).
"what's so funny?"
"i can't believe james is actually right when he said the both of us think and feel the same thing,"
he scoffs, shaking his head against your shoulder, "don't tell him that. it'll boost his ego."
"unless he's listening through our phones, i don't think we have anything to worry about."
"i'd rather the c.i.a hear about it than james."
"the c.i.a's are punching their fists in the air as we speak."
martin laughs, and because he's laughing, you're laughing. he sits back to look at you again. his uses one hand to caress your cheek before he lures you in to kiss you. martin has many types of kisses with you; the urgent ones, the ones where he takes his time, the ones where he quickly gives them to you as many as he can before he leaves.
this one; felt like a promise. it was gentle, long and quiet. but soon after, when he pulls back, he realises he can't quite ever just get one kiss with you that he chases for your lips again. it makes you chuckle, past the onslaught of kisses beginning to shower you. he kisses you through your smiles, again and again until he feels you submitting into the kisses. from smiles to sighs, teeth clashing to lips moving; in sync, in tandem, like a rhythm of a song.
martin pulls back again, just so he can ask you after a couple of deep breaths: "feeling better?"
he grins when you nod, pressing your forehead to his, "yeah... you?"
he nods into your forehead, "mhm." then the corners of his lips come up into a smirk, "but i could do with a couple more kisses."
you glance at the clock to your right, sighing, "you have practice tomorrow morning."
"let me stay the night," he half-whines, half-shaking his body.
the answer was already there the moment you look into martin's eyes with that face on his face. he knows the answer in your silence, more so when you cling onto him with a squeal as he heaves you into his arms and makes a dash to your bedroom. ah, the boys would know where he is if he's not at home at this hour, anyway.
((the lull of the night nearly captures the both of you asleep, but martin wouldn't be martin if he doesn'tā"promise me you'll talk to me about this whenever you feel this way?" martin holds up his pinky finger between your bodies, head resting on the pillow, eyes glued onto you.
your eyes remain shut as you pretend to be asleep, but martin quite literally sees through you when he huffs. you peel one eye open to see martin already pouting at you, past the night glow of the moonlight peeking through the blinds. chuckling, you lift your hand up to lock pinkies with him, giving the back of his hand a kiss.
even at a time like this, martin wants to one-up you that he does the same, giving you two kisses before pulling your locked pinkies to his lips where he keeps your hand there.
"as long as you do the same for me, tinnie."
he smiles.
"always."))
ā synopsis: *siri, play 'love language' by txt* (in which these are the love languages sorted out to the members)
ā pairing: ot5 x female!reader, headcanons / type: cheesy fluff, a little silly / word count: 2,272 words
[masterlist šļø]
tiny note: i think there's definitely overlaps with each member's personalities but i just wanted to sort one act of service to each member :3 also, hello to the new people who have shown love to the stuff i've posted so far! (low-key it was just for me to document my writings somewhere, but it's nice to see some of them get some love š)
[other members below the cut!]
š¦ _james; words of affirmation
james was a man of... many, many words. it's like you're able to pick up anything and everything he wants to say; paralleled with the nonsensical and pure sounds he makes just for the heck of it. he doesn't shy away to being confrontational when he has to, yet, he has a delicacy to his tone when he's whispering words of love to you. he goes from being able to explain things in minuscule to noises that you're somehow able to decode into words.
either one, james is grateful you're able to reciprocate whichever he's feeling that day. even if it's on the day where he can only afford to make sounds, he's still being heard.
today was no different. from the moment he plopped himself onto your couch and made you lay on top of him, it cues an endless stream of words being said to one another but all being listened to with intention. in between him listening to you speak, he's letting you know he's listening to you when he makes sounds along the way. so much so that it's making you smile while you speak.
then, there's this small pause of silence and james lets his mind come to the forefront; words already spewing out of his mouth before he can stop himself. he's admiring the top of your head when he feels your cheek on his chest, resting there, taking calm intakes of air. he grins, latching one arm around you to keep you on him, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek despite not being able to see.
"i like it when we talk like this," he feels your head moving, "i feel so free when i talk to you, it's like i'm putting you in my brain and it somehow makes sense, i don't feel alone."
you chuckle and lift your head up, enough to press your chin on his chest, nodding into it as you blink up to him, "i like it too."
he feels you leaning into his hand and he holds you there. his thumb gently lines your bottom lip.
"you don't think i talk too much?"
you shake your head against his hand, your smile growing wide along his thumb that remains by your lip, "the day i stop listening is probably when my ears give out."
james sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead before he flops back down and admires you on top of him. there's this soft smile on his face as he remains like that, as you remain like that. he curls his arms around you to keep you close, especially with the hand to cups your head when you turn the cheek to rest your head on his chest. he can tell you're listening to his heartbeat. it's slowing down, as if you keep him calm and even without words, you understand his actions. you snuggle into him and your eyes flutter shut, making james do the same as there's a passing thought in his mind before he drifts off to slumber; even without words, you can still understand me.
š¢_juhoon; receiving gifts
juhoon finds joy in being reminded of you wherever he goes. whether he's in the same country with you or abroad; when he roams the streets and finds something that strums on his heartstrings at the slight memory of you, that's going onto his basket, cart, shopping bagābeepāand he's out that place with the gift in tow. it's something as small as a keychain, it's something as big as a new jacket. it's something of a something that reminds juhoon of something about you. he can't quite put it into words (even though he comfortably goes over the word limit time and time again with you; effortlessly coming out of his shell around your presence).
what he does put into words is a soft i missed you so much as he returns your hug at your doorstep he's picking you up from. he's giving you a kiss to the side of your head as he squeezes you. when he lets you go, he doesn't let you go too far before he reveals from behind your ear thatā"oh wow, that's so pretty..." you gasp, eyes sparkling at the bracelet that he hovers in front of you with a smile.
he eases it onto your wrist with ease, very very satisfied with how it sits on you. especially when you hold your hand up, giving it a twist to hear the charms clink. "somehow, you make the bracelet prettier than it is."
"yeah?" you grin up to him, and he nods with the gummiest of smiles.
"much like how you're gonna look with mine on?"
juhoon's eyes widen when it was your turn to reveal a bracelet from behind his ear with your other hand when he's distracted with the hand he had just put a bracelet on. he gapes, eyes widening. then, he squints his eyes with a half-pout, "you've been learning my tricks..."
"what can i say?" you chuckle, lightly taking one of his hands to put the bracelet on, "i learn from the best."
juhoon can't help but laugh with you, his eyes now trailing down to see the wooden material bangle that sits on his wrist with a selection of charms hooked onto it. it makes a similar sound when he gives his wrist a shake and it somehow compliments his outfit. his smile grows wide and he looks up to see you looking at him.
"you like?"
he snorts, shaking his head.
"i love."
then, juhoon carefully reaches for your hand to hold. it's as if he's steering you to your next destination. while that was the main intention, you truly see his intentions when you watch him stare at the way your hand is in his... with the accompanying bracelets in your respective wrists.
š_martin; quality time
martin expresses himself the best when he's able to spend time with you whenever and however long he can get. on days when he's busy with his schedules, he squeezes in even a few minutes worth of a call to see your face. on days where he gets the day off, he'll find a way to subtly swing by and end up staying the rest of the night. (which you have no objections with)
tonight was a little different given that you had more time to foresee the future (he texted asking if you're at home and you put two and two together).
the doorbell rings more like a signal to you, because he's already keying in your passcode and has the keys for the additional lock to make his way through. when he steps past the door, he's greeted with the warm aroma of a sandalwood candle, the yellow light from a dingy lamp in the corner that illuminates the way to where you are. situated on the floor, a puzzle on the table with pizza on the side; you wave your hands up like a ta-da!
he gapes as he stands there, his paper bag of legos dropping to the floor as he clutches onto the flowers he got you.
"no way..." martin blinks in disbelief, unable to comprehend that the two of you are probably the spiderman meme pointing at each other.
"this is so stinkin' cute," you chuckle, sitting up to your knees as you spread your arms out as a cue for martin toāoof! martin grins when he can feel your smile embedded into his shoulder as he squeezes you. to your best ability, you try to reciprocate the hug but not for long when martin pulls back to look at you with the biggest grin on his face.
"have i ever told you that you're the best?"
you sigh, using a hand to go through his hair, "you have," your palm slides down to put against his cheek, where he leans into your touch, "but i do like hearing it again,"
martin wastes no time to dip down, planting a sweet kiss to your lips that you smile into. it's a chain reaction; he feels you smiling, and he's smiling. the teeth clashing makes martin pull back, the smile on his face seemingly stretching wider as he says: "you're the best, baby."
the night was spent debating on which one you should do first; the puzzle or the legos but nothing like rock, paper, scissors can't fix (lie, martin let you win, knowing very well you were more excited for the puzzle first). it progressed with having mindless and mindful conversations, bites of pizza (and trying not to dirty the pieces or table) and shy but measured glances at one another.
when the pizza was long gone and the puzzle long completed, martin likes the position you two end up with: on the sofa, an askew blanket over your bodies and a content smile on martin's face as he holds you close to him.
š¦_seonghyeon; acts of service
seonghyeon may be quiet on the surface but it doesn't mean that he's not listening or paying attention. rather, he doesn't shy away from doing things for you on a whim; whether it's something you mention you want to get done (he somehow already does it) or when it's something as simple as taking out the trash and poof, it's already gone because he moves like that.
on a peaceful afternoon of spending time together in a cafe; filled with sweet conversations between bites of cake and the rich adrenaline from caffeine, a carelessness leads to a spoon clinking onto the floor. before you can react to grab it, seonghyeon's already picking it up and mumbling a soft be right back.
your eyes follow him as he walks over to the counter to hand them the dirty spoon and acquire a new one. when he walks back towards you, you're already smiling at him with a thank you lining your lips, but then he puts the spoon onto the table before heā"oh," seonghyeon lets out on instinct. your eyes follow him as he bends down to tie your shoelaces that have come undone.
you watch as he double-knots them, so they don't come apart again anytime soon. when he lifts his head up, for a split second he notices your hand on the edge of the table so he doesn't hit it on his way up. that alone makes himself smile, his heart blooming at the thought that not only is he appreciated in his gestures, he's seen and taken care of in other ways, too.
it was simple, but to seonghyeon, these silent ways of affections seem to make his heart feel the fullest.
but boy, he can't deny the heat racing to his face when he feels a kiss to his cheek, hearing a gentle thank you, hyeon. he gapes and blinks at you, watching as you're chuckling before putting your attention to the cake. you scoop a decent size, along with the cherry, and hold it up to his lips with a soft ahhh.
on command, he takes the bite and tries not to grin too hard when you brush the cream from his lips. the blush that slowly colours his cheeks is what makes you smile as you taste the sweetness from the cake but surely, that wasn't the main source when seonghyeon's locked his eyes on you.
š¶_keonho; physical touch
keonho doesn't shy away whenever he thinks there's an inkling of need or want to just reach out for a hand, hug, kiss, anythingāyou name it. he can be happy even if you lay on top of him like a mattress, sit on him like he's the cushion to your seat, or hold his hand to trail around the shopping complex and he'll gladly follow your lead. something about the way he feels connected to you emotionally, drives him to want to connect with you physically when he gets the chance to.
even at a time like now, where you're doing the dishes. with gloves lining your hands, a sponge in one hand as you hold the pan down with another, you're giving it a good scrub and... oh.
you glance down to see arms around your waist, and soon, a cheek pressed to your shoulder as he looms over it. that makes you smile, turning the cheek to see the smile already waiting for you.
"hi," keonho says, in a tone that's way too happy for someone who's watching someone doing the dishes. nevertheless, it's what makes you shake your head but you still reply: "hello. can i help you?"
he shakes his head, proceeding to rest his chin on your shoulder. "you're already helping me."
"by doing the dishes?"
"by letting me hold you."
"..."
"...just ignore me," he half-whines, swaying your body with his as he leans into you. "it's going to be a bit difficult when you're strapped onto me like this,"
"take me with you," he huffs, proving that when you move to the left, he follows. to the right, and he's there with you. it's so silly that it makes you laugh but you don't push him away, only resorting to lean back into the support and get cracking on washing the remaining dishes. from time to time, you can hear his smile in your ear based on how close he was but it's not exactly a bad thing when it makes washing the dishes a little less boring.
ā synopsis: you were getting worked up on a gift youāve been planning on giving martinā¦ only for him to prove that heās your number one supporter time and time again.
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: cheesy fluff / word count: 2,445 words / reader and martin has a tom-and-jerry-like way of banter (all in good fun) / reader has an artistic background / reader is low-key adopted into the group lol
[masterlist šļø]
the night begins to come to an end when you hear the familiar beep from martin's watch that signals it's nearly time for him to go. it's a dreaded moment but somehow with martin's soft gaze and the usual kiss to the forehead seems to soothe the festering emotions of longing. the two of you remain on the sofa a little longer, him keeping his hold on you as you're half-seated on his lap, half-rooting yourself on the sofa as he refuses to let you go. his face remains slotted in your neck as he breathes there, squeezing you.
as much as you want him to stay, you (both) know there's way too much on the line.
"martin," you coo softly, one arm curled around his shoulders, the other going through his hair gently.
he shakes his head.
"no, don't make me leave." he huffs into your neck, the hot air making it ticklish to your skin as you shift away with a chuckle. that only seems to drive martin to want to get to you closer that he follows your movement, glued to you and unwilling to detach himself.
well... it's almost like everything writes itself because now seems like the perfect time to...
"if you let me go then i'll give you a gift?"
martin scoffs, hugging you tighter.
"you're the gift."
"..."
"..."
martin peeks up and raises a brow at you, "wait, deadass? you got me a gift?"
your mind flashes with a reminder of what you got him and it's making you a little self-conscious now when you're up so close to him and seeing all of the things he's wearing. of course, no doubt, you know that he'll come to appreciate anything you get him but it's nowhere near the amount you're able to afford what he's able to.
you swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head, "y-y'know what? never mind. maybe i'll give it to you another time."
martin smirks, "well now i want it."
he lets go of one arm around you so he can hold it in between your bodies, palm facing up, "gift please."
his hand opens and closes, wiggling his brows at you in a way that makes you laugh (it always does). you sigh and push yourself up from him and his hand steadies you until you're on your feet. you mumble a soft be right back before you're scattering to the bedroom and martin hears a bunch of rummaging and a ow! that he chuckles from the living room.
"yo, you good?" he hollers, only for you to muster a yeah yeah yeah, be there in a sec!
a sec turns into a minute, and it's a good two minutes before you've surfaced from the bedroom with a box behind your back.
"all day's of battle is worthy of the fruit, m'lady," martin says, holding his hand out to you. you're a bit reluctant as you remain a distance away, keeping the box behind your back as you take in a deep breath.
"d-don't get your hopes up, okay? it's not a big thing, not that expensive either."
the look in martin's eyes softens when he realises why you were so reluctant to give it to him based on that sentence alone. the smile on his face fades a little as the brows on his face droop down.
"hey, wait... don't say that," his fingers wiggle at you, both hands stretched out towards you, "c'mere,"
with a resigned breath, you take another step towards him and his long arms are able to reach you to gently guide you to stand closer towards him until you're in front of him. he doesn't even care to look at the box behind your back, only gazing up to you as his arms try their best to slot around your waist to pull you close, his chin resting against your chest (because yeah, even with the height difference, he makes up for it) as he looks up, "let me be clear, you're all i could ever ask for. all of these gifts? they're a plus. all i really need is you. all i ever want is you."
martin watches as you digest his words, as if each syllable is dripping into your mind and he knows it's somehow working when your eyes look away to the side, avoiding his eyes.
"...you're not just saying that, right?"
he tries to follow your line of sight until you meet with his gaze, and once he's locked eyes with you, he smiles. (and that's a chain reaction to getting you to smile)
"i'm a man of my word, y/n. you know that."
you balance the box in one hand, pressing it to your back as you have a free hand to rest it on his head. your hand slides back to cup the back of his head as your thumb draws circles into his scalp.
"you're good at talking, martin."
"part of the reason why you got together with me, aye?"
"..."
"..."
"here's your gift," you snort, revealing the box and stepping back to create space for martin to receive it. he huffs, "now that's just mean."
before he can fully grasp the box, you'reā"okay, fine, no giftā"martin nearly lunges for it as he manages to get ahold of it quicker than you can pull back.
"no, no! thank you, thank you for this gift."
you snort, watching as this 6"3 of a guy turns into a little kid upon having a present on his lap. your body instinctively moves to sit on the floor so you can look up to him carefully undo the bow to pull the lid open. he gasps in surprise upon seeing... just the filler paper that you hit his calf at his teasing. he laughs it off and sets the lid aside, eager fingers digging in to push away the fillers to see spots of denim poking through.
it's like his body has fallen into a spell as his eyes grow wide, his jaw hangs open as he pulls it out of the box to reveal the jacket in its full glory. it's an oversized denim jacket, with signs of distress and patches of color wrapped around in unique curves. it's a mixed media piece with brush strokes of his group's logo, and embroidered lines dotted throughout. it's abstract, it's art and martin knows it's your art for a fact but he still looks at you toā"i... i saw the jacket and knew you would love it but wanted to do a little something with it. it's not much butā"martin immediately yells to get you to stop talking and it damn near gives you a heart attack... but it's effective in making you shut up.
he's not even saying words at this point, full on yelling out syllables like ah! woah! what! in a variety of beats that it's making you laugh. (you know he's yelling so you don't keep talking down on your work) he's admiring the jacket in full view, left, right, upside down, flipping it around, inside out to admire the stitching, back around to see the strokes in such precise yet carefree streaks.
"you have got to stop downplaying your talent," is the first sentence martin murmurs as he holds the jacket up once more. he carefully takes a stand and keeps his eyes on you as he puts it on slowly. the denim sits nicely on his shoulders to a comfortable oversize; the patterns and colors of red, white and blue somehow swirl around his torso like he's the art piece itself.
"how'd i look?" martin starts posing, as if he's walked out of a vogue magazine that it makes you laugh, already fishing your phone to take pictures of him (yeah with the flash on) as he does so.
"you look really good. almost too good."
"be right back!" martin makes a beeline to your bedroom where he knows the full length mirror is at. he effectively hops over your knees and the coffee table with a light thud, and then he disappears. you don't quite know what's going on but you hear exclaims of excitement and multiple captures of camera shutters that you know martin's taking mirror selfies.
it's a couple of minutes before you hear footsteps coming out of the bedroom and you see martin holding up the jacket as if itās fragile, as if heās afraid heāll break it.
"you. here. now."
itās like you're being summoned, you get up from the floor to walk over to him. you peel the jacket from his hands and meekly take a look at him to see how he's already staring at you with awe in his eyes. as if he's fallen in love all over again (he losing it, your honor).
"you're telling me, you hand-painted and hand-stitched all of the details on this jacket?" martin asks, gripping onto your shoulders as his eyes remain wide.
you slowly nod, āi tried distressing the material because i knew you liked textureāā
āyou what!ā
martin loses his mind.
he takes the jacket from your hands so he can put it onto the sofa with every fibre in his nerves to be carefulā¦ before he yanks you into a hug that nearly takes your breath away with how swiftly he moves. he sings praises into your earsāyou're so god damned talented, if i could paint or create art like that i'd never stop scribbling any surface that i come across, i'd draw on everything, i don't get how a human could create art as beautiful and breathtaking as thisāas he sways you left and right. his arms are keeping you glued onto him, your arms remain by your sides as you chuckle, letting him almost manhandle you in the most delicate way possible.
you can tell that martin had intended to continue showering you with compliments but his watch beeps again as a signal that shit, okay, he really has to leave. you laugh when you can see how he's torn to dealing with the consequences of being late just to stay here a while longer to gush about the jacket but you'reā"martin, please you gotta go. we can talk about this another time."
"promise?" martin holds his pinky out, "i wanna hear all about how you made this the next time i'm here."
you lock pinkies with him (well-aware if you don't, he's going to keep being late) and he's glowing. "promise."
he holds onto your pinky longer to extend the terms of the promise: "and you're not making any of these for the others, it's just for me!"
before you can react to his newly added terms, you scoff a laugh as he lets go of your pinky and swoops in to give you a kiss that shocks the life out of you and eases the nerves you've been bottling up at the thought of how he'd react to the jacket. but with the way he threatens you that you will be hearing more compliments about the jacket, and that he'll show it off to the world (and the boys, and his mom, and his dad, and his sisterāyou get it), maybe there was nothing to worry about when you could even draw a poorly shaped turtle and martin would frame it up.
lover boy's walking out of the door after giving you one last hug, one last kiss, and a promise that he'll give you a long essay after his late night practice.
all those nights of hard work pays off when you check your phone to see the images of martin you just took. his smile, the sparkle in his eyes, the confidence he carries as he carries a piece of you with himā¦ all that overthinking is flushed down the drain, replaced with a confidence booster when you receive a voice note from martin.
itās short, itās quick, and itās effective to making you grin like a lovestruck fool.
i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you! youāre so talented! i love you, i love this jacket, iāll see you soon, iāll scream more later. i love you muah muah speak later i love you!!!
while martinās revelling in his new gift, youāre grateful of the gift that is martin himself.
((that night, before you sleep, (and yeah, martin did send you a somewhat well-written long text filled with random meme photos with bursts of hearts and tears to express how grateful he is with the time and thought you've put into the jacket and that nothing will ever live up to this... other than another jacket... maybe jeans... or a bag... you get where he's going), your phone buzzes more than the regular amount that it makes you check. you unlock your phone past your new wallpaper (martin wearing the jacket you gifted) to see an influx of text messages from the group chat.
[jamie z. | 12:21a.m.] shared a link.
you click on the link and it leads you to their weverse page to see martin's post of a fairly recent mirror selfie with a very familiar looking item of clothing hanging on his shoulders. he's careful to make sure your room isn't revealed, just the plain wall reflection and an extremely cropped image that shows off the jacket's details and the biggest grin on martin's face.
the caption is simple: designer type shii. your eyes grow wide at the number of compliments in the comments, with martin replying a few here and there sparingly that he got it from a secret, underground artist that would be very famous one day. it makes your heart swell... and reels you back to reality when your phone continues to buzz with messages.
[kekekeonho | 12.22a.m.] where's our jacket? :( i want one toooooooo
[juju on that beat | 12.24a.m.] that's actually really cool y/n... so when's our batch coming...
[hehehyeon | 12.25a.m.] we can be your brand ambassadors tho.......
[tinnie <3 | 12.25a.m.] as y/n's official manager, this is my proposal:
[tinnie <3 | 12.25a.m.] [video]
your phone downloads the video to see martin showing off the jacket in it's full glory; smack dab in the middle of your room as he makes use of your bedroom mirror. he's giggling like a little boy, but he's modeling it like he was made for it.
[tinnie <3 | 12.25a.m.] but with that, itās a no from me, sharks
[tinnie <3 | 12.25am.] suffer ;)
ā synopsis: despite you and martin going on a break, he doesn't quite keep his end of the bargain too well (more so when you're keeping most of his hoodies).
ā pairing: martin edwards x female!reader / type: comfort fluff / word count: 1,143 words / note: subtle!exes-to-lovers
[masterlist šļø]
martin knows everything about this is wrong. and that in itself is the reason why it feels less wrong when he's acknowledging it's wrong. it's called a break for a reason. to give each other clarity; but martin has never felt so certain about a feeling in his life. he's young, he knows he has much more to live for and experience, heāhe knows it... but damn the world if this isn't what love feels like. the ache. the longing. the want. the way you looked at him the first time you met; the first time he kissed you, again and again past the shyness of young love; the first night you stayed over and he held you in his arms.
martin knows. and he knows you know. that this love hasn't ran its' course. it... it's just a little lost. like the two of you. likeā"martin?"
it's like he's reeled back to the reality he's too nervous to face with. could you imagine? the martin was nervous in front of you? the quietness is what gets him to look up, as if you've snapped him out of his trance as he rocks on the balls of his feet. he looks restless, as if he's been on haywire for days on end.
"yeah?" he clears his throat, brows raised, as if you're at his doorstep.
the silence that he's greeted with after your soft um... as your eyes peek out the door past him, then back at him is what snaps him to his senses that it's the other way around. for a guy who's told he's tall, big for all his life, it's rare that he feels small.
he feels very, very small here. and all he wants is to be held by you. it's written all over his face even if he doesn't say it.
"i..." he starts of shakily, rubbing the back of his neck as he averts your gaze, lowering his eyes until he spots a familiar pattern over your chest. his eyes take in the sight of his hoodie on you; sitting comfortably, where its' meant to be... where he's meant to be. he swallows past the thickness in his throat, gathering the courage to look up into your eyes. "...wanted my hoodie back but," he exhales, "it seems like my own hoodie wants a different owner."
he watches as you digest his words when you look down at the attire you're wearing. as if the gears are rotating in your head, playing a voice of the man in front of you: keep it. it's yours. and one day, if you're willing, i'm still yours, too.
martin sees the emotions welling in your eyes. and it hurts him. it pains him to see the pain flowing through you even if he knows its essential for both of you to be on this break but... boy was it difficult. he bites the side of his inner cheek, his heart hammering in his chest as he waits. he doesn't quite know what he's waiting for, but he's grateful for the few mere minutes he gets to see you in the midst of his hectic schedule before it sinks him a whole again.
you clear your throat and straighten your back, hugging your arms in front of your chest as you feel the fabric of what feels like martin around you; where it belongs.
"can't give it back to you, i'm keeping it."
you watch as your words have an immediate effect over martin. his nerves tense but his eyes begin to sparkle but you can't bring yourself to say anything else when his watch beeps; a recognisable time of the day where you know he's needed for practice.
"h-have a good practice." you say in a breath, retreating back to your home and quickly try to shut the door. a hand stops you from being able to close the door entirely. your words hitch in your throat, eyes widening as martin's able to peel the door open and lean in a mere breath away from your face.
"y-you mean it, yeah? no takebacksies?"
you try to push him out, a hand on his shoulder to give him a nudge but martin's reflexes get the best of him. his hand instinctively grips onto yours on his shoulder, pressing your hand there as he squeezes your hand. he searches your eyes for an answer, even more when you look down to see your hand in his (where it belongs).
"soon," you muster up, blinking up to him, "let's talk soon."
it was minimal, but the world to martin. it was a code, like a language to reading everything that there is to you that martin has memorised in the crevices of his mind. like clockwork. i... i can't bring myself to talk about it now. but when i'm ready, when you're readyāwhen we areāwe'll be alright again.
though reluctant, martin nods and lets go of your hand.
his heart still weighs heavy as he steps out and basks in the few seconds he has left as he watches you muster a small wave before you close the door. he waits a few seconds, as if his fate would change if he waits a while longer but accepts fate when the door remains unmoving. nevertheless, he turns around and the biggest, cheesiest grin crawls onto his face as he's unable to contain the excitement bottling inside of him.
(("woah, he's a changed man today," james comments, watching how martin's practically running around in circles as their song blasts through the speakers.
"ten bucks says they're back together," keonho quietly whispers, holding his hand out to seonghyeon. the latter, merely rolls his eyes but gives his hand a shake, "i already feel like i'm gonna lose."
//
just before martin could walk away, he hears the door opening and he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him but he checks anyway. his eyes widen, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees your face so close to him but he can barely process it until it's too lateāwait, come back, one more time pleaseāthe soft, plush feeling of your lips against his in the spark of impulsivity has martin's knees weak.
he manages a feeble stammer of your name, hands grabbing onto air when you're already walking backwards, heading back to your home, "see you soon."
he's a beat too late when the door closes and it's a beautiful sight when he catches a couple more seconds of your smile. "h-how soon are we talking?!" he hollers, only to realise he's not going to get an answer.
but maybe, that wasn't important now. what matters to him is that he knows he has a chance. and that's all martin will hang onto.))
ā synopsis: martin likes admiring pretty things (you).
ā pairing: martin edwards x unistudent!female!reader / type: (cheesy) fluff / pairing: word count: 563 words
[masterlist šļø]
a few students are scattered in different corners of the library. it's a couple of weeks leading up to finals and you're no exception to the equation. though, someone else might be but still forces his way to be a part of it mainly because you are.
he tries his best to be quiet and diligent, promising not to disrupt your flow of study as a bargain of being able to tag along with you. past the caging of his knees between yours (a little love language of his that he wants to have some contact with you), his feet occasionally brushing against your ankle as he scribbles on his notebook; probably lyrics, a melody he's humming or... wait...
you pause from scanning your notes to glance up to catch martin's gaze. upon getting caught, he smiles sheepishly, burying his chin further into his palm that he's resting in.
"edwards," you call out lowly, squinting your eyes at him.
he feigns innocence, gaping with his chin still in his hand, "not. the. second. government. name."
"well you're not exactly doing what you said you would," you snort, shaking your head as you put your attention back down to your notes. you can hear him huffing as he moves his position to fold his arms on the table before he hunches over it.
"i don't know what you're talking about," he says, "i only said i'd make my time worthwhile being here with you and that's what i've been doing."
you can feel his annoyance when you don't respond to him. his kneecaps lightly nudge yours under the table and it makes you crack a smile as you highlight a passage before closing the cap to look up to him again. "what?"
you watch as his features soften upon making eye contact with you again. in the silence, it makes you realise that what he means by making his time worthwhile is looking at you. the thought alone makes you a little self-conscious as you try to lean back on your seat but you feel the squeeze of martin's knees making you stop with a pout.
"no no, don't," his voice initially came out louder than he intended, "i mean... why're you moving away?"
"i..." your voice is soft, too soft even for a library, "iāwhy're you staring?"
martin gives you a look. one that's written are you really gonna ask me that all over his features.
"do i have something on my face again?" you rub your cheekāleft and rightābut the only thing that you're putting on martin's face is the smile that creeps along the corners of his lips. then, his eyes are crinkling from how hard he's smiling.
"the only thing you got on your face is a whole lot of beauty."
martin's left snickering to himself when you slowly put your chin in your palm and lower your gaze back to your notes. while he can see you purposefully avoiding his stare, he doesn't mind it when you're no longer moving away from him and grants him the full access to keep looking at you.
to you, to others, martin's not exactly doing the most productive of things with his time.
to martin? this was the best thing he could do with his time. (he has others on the list but we won't go through that today)
