Martin has been (choosingly!!) single his whole life and is fully convinced that he doesn't need a girl (or so he thought). Enter Seonghyeon's sister, who just finished studying from abroad, is freshly broken up, and wants nothing to do with men for the rest of her life. A girl that's hot, lowkey a bitch, and doesn't want him at all? Fuck, that's just his type.
MARTIN x F!RDR ━━ band au , best friend's sister trope , profanities , martin is down bad , ftr carmen & yuha h2h , stella h2h as yn's fc
Martin has been (choosingly!!) single his whole life and is fully convinced that he doesn't need a girl (or so he thought). Enter Seonghyeon's sister, who just finished studying from abroad, is freshly broken up, and wants nothing to do with men for the rest of her life. A girl that's hot, lowkey a bitch, and doesn't want him at all? Fuck, that's just his type.
MARTIN x F!RDR ━━ band au , best friend's sister trope , profanities , martin is down bad , ftr carmen & yuha h2h , stella h2h as yn's fc
-> if you are seeing a reblog, be sure to check the original post for the realtime update
NOTE ' how's the smau progressing so far??? do u guys fw these long chaps?? u guys like maryn dynamic rn?? also que yn being sappy at the end for like a split sec loll more seongyn dynamic in further chaps!! they the best siblings frrr (even tho their ego is so big lol) js going w the flow for this smau. lemme know how u think it's going!! love you smm
SYNOPSIS :: Juhoon has spent months allowing the rumours on if he has a girlfriend or not to spread, hoping the endless barrage of confessions he faces daily would eventually stop. One day he decides he’s finally had enough and chooses to put the rumours to rest.
W.C :: 3.6k
CONTAINS :: popular!footballer!juhoon, high school au, established relationship, other girls like jju, secret relationship, angst if you squint, tiny jealousy, fluff, skinship, kissing
PLAYLIST :: Lover is a day - Cuco; Out of my league - Fitz and The Tantrums; Kiss me - Sixpence None The Richer; Cariño - The Marias
The first bell was mere minutes away when the main courtyard of the school turned into an utter circus.
Juhoon noticed this before he even stepped out of the bike shed. A girl he vaguely recognised from the dance department had planted herself directly in his path, flanked by two giggling friends holding a rather tragic handmade sign that read ‘BE MY BF, JUHOON?’ in glitter glue.
He stopped, blinking slowly before he let out an eventual sigh.
"Juhoon!" The girl declared, voice trembling but brave. "I've liked you since the winter recital. Will you go out with me?"
The crowd that materialised from thin air was a testament to his particular brand of fame: part football star, part unreasonably good-looking, all mysterious smiles and sharp jawlines that granted him endless unwanted attention.
"Sorry," he said, not unkindly, but with zero hesitation. "I'm not interested."
Her face crumpled slightly, he spotted the slight tremble of her lips but chose to ignore it, he had been asked out by far too many girls he didn’t even know the names of. To make things worse the crowd erupted and ooooh'd, Juhoon wanting the ground to swallow him whole just so he could escape.
And then—because this was always the follow-up, there was always a follow-up—she pressed further. "Is it because of that rumour? About you and that girl?"
Juhoon's expression didn't change an inch, he remained entirely neutral. He'd been asked this before, dozens of times actually. In classrooms, in hallways, in DMs he never opened.
"There's no rumour," he said carefully, calculated. "There's just me, and I'm not interested."
It wasn't a denial, but it wasn't a confirmation either. It was a door left slightly ajar, and he knew it. He'd learned, over the past few months, that saying too much would only make things worse. Confirming would bring a different kind of attention: the curious, invasive kind that might scare you away, and Juhoon was doing anything in his power to protect you from that.
So he stayed quiet and let people wonder and spin the rumour mill, but his gaze was already drifting, snagged by a flash of recognisable hair and chunky sneakers thudding against the floor near the iron gates.
He spotted you walking onto the school ground, plugged into the earphones you carried around like they were your own child. Your head was down and you were moving through the morning like water through rocks, oblivious and unhurried, having absolutely no idea that a crowd of forty people was watching a girl get rejected over glitter glue by your very own secret boyfriend.
His eyes tracked you as you passed behind the building, feeling something in his chest tighten once you disappeared from his view.
He should stay and let the crowd dissipate naturally, let the dance girl save face, let the rumours simmer without him adding fuel.
Instead, he decided to push through the people encircling him. An elbow here, a muttered apology there. By the time he broke free, he was almost jogging, passing the last few remaining students entering school grounds.
"Y/N!" He called out once he was sure the crowd was outside of sight, though you didn't hear him and kept walking forward.
Of course you didn't. Your world existed behind those headphones, tucked away somewhere he'd somehow wrangled himself into a few months ago. He quickened his pace, closing the distance between you just as you entered the doors to the humanities wing.
He reached out and tugged gently on the cord of your left earbud.
You startled, a tiny jump that made him want to apologise and laugh at the same time. Your eyes went wide for a split second before they registered who it was, softening immediately.
"Oh." You pulled the other earbud out, placing them into the same pocket as your phone. "Hi, Jju."
"Hey, yourself." He fell into step beside you, matching your pace like it was second nature. His shoulder brushed yours, sending sparks down your arm. "You planning on doing anything after school today?"
You looked up at him, seeing the slight smile resting against his lips that always seemed present when he was watching you.
"Why…?" You dragged out, but you knew all too well what he was about to ask. You'd had the same exchange many times before.
He tilted his head, that smile widening just a fraction. "My game’s at four. Home field. Against Busan."
"You play Busan every month."
"And every month I ask you to come." He shrugged, like it was obvious, though the slighting reddening of his cheeks gave far too much away than he would’ve liked. "And every month you say you'll think about it."
"Maybe this month I will."
He stopped walking and you kept going for two more steps before you realised he wasn't beside you anymore. You turned around, finding him standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, expression caught somewhere between hopeful and terrified.
"Wait," he said. "Really?"
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. The morning light was filtering through the hallway windows, catching the edges of his hair, and he looked so genuinely thrown off that you almost felt bad.
Almost.
"I said maybe," you reminded him, turning back around and continuing toward your classroom. You heard his footsteps rush to catch up and you attempted to suppress the smile crawling onto your lips.
"That's not nothing," he said, falling back into step beside you. "That's closer to a yes than you've ever given me."
"Don't read into it."
"I'm going to read into it so hard."
You laughed despite yourself, a quiet, breathy thing that you tried to hide by looking straight ahead though how could he not notice it? However, in your attempt at indifference you failed to spot the softening of his gaze as he watched you, the smile on his lips mirroring your own. His shoulder brushed yours again, and this time you didn't move away.
"Four o'clock," he said again, like he was making sure you remembered.
"I know you play at four o'clock, Jju."
"Just making sure."
You stopped outside your classroom. The door was still propped open, students filing in, the familiar chaos of first period settling into place. You should have gone in by now, you were already late by hallway standards, but he was still standing there, looking at you like you'd just offered him something precious and something in your chest twisted.
"I'll think about it," you said softly.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. "That's all I'm asking for."
Someone suddenly bumped into him from behind—a freshman who immediately turned purple and stammered an apology. Juhoon waved it off without even sparing the boy a glance, his attention not once wandering from your face.
"You should get to class," you finally said, maintaining eye contact despite the flood of heat rushing up your neck.
"I should," he agreed, though neither of you moved.
The bell rang, shrill and insistent. You watched his expression shift from soft to reluctant to something that looked almost like resignation. He wanted to say something—you could see it in the way his jaw worked, the way his lips parted slightly before pressing shut again.
"Go," you said gently, insistently.
He exhaled. "See you at the game?"
"Maybe."
"Y/N."
"I said maybe."
He shook his head, but he was smiling again. "Fine," he said, already backing away. "Maybe. I'll take maybe."
You watched him walk backward down the hallway for a few steps before he finally turned around, running a hand through his hair as he disappeared around the corner.
You stood there for a moment longer than necessary, your hand resting on the doorframe, feeling the ghost of his shoulder against yours. That boy had you completely wrapped around his fingers and you don’t think he even realised it.
The thought was quickly pushed aside as you entered the class, already wishing the day would just pass by faster.
By the time four o'clock rolled around you had already made up your mind.
You stood at the edge of the field, hands tucked into the pocket of your hoodie, watching the crowd filter into the bleachers. The sun was starting its slow descent, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. The air smelled like grass and sweat and the faint sweetness of someone's overpriced coffee from the concession stand.
You entered the bleachers, your eyes trained on the field watching the players warm up.
You didn’t know if he had seen you yet, it was hard to tell from this distance, he was focused, sharp, his dark hair already sticking to his forehead despite the cool evening air. He moved across the field like he owned it, like the grass was an extension of his own body.
Someone bumped into your shoulder.
"Oh, sorry!" A girl with braces and a phone case covered in stickers smiled at you. "Are you here for the game?"
You hesitated for a brief moment. "I know someone on the team."
"Me too!" She grinned, gesturing toward the field. "I'm here for Juhoon. He's so cute, right? Do you think the rumour is true? About him having a girlfriend?"
Your stomach tightened. "I don't know."
"I hope it's not," she said, already turning toward the bleachers. "He never confirms anything, so there's still a chance, right?"
Right, you thought. There's still a chance.
You watched her bounce down the metal steps and settle into the front row—the fanclub row, you realised—spotting the familiar cluster of matching headbands and handmade signs. There were at least fifteen of them today, maybe more. They had a choreographed cheer that they practiced during warm-ups, their voices carrying across the field in a high-pitched chorus.
You found a spot midway up the bleachers that was off to the side: far enough from the fanclub that you wouldn't be lumped in with them, close enough that you could still see your boyfriend’s every movement.
The whistle blew and the game began
Juhoon was everywhere in the first half. He was in the midfield, then on the wing, then tracking back to defend, then sprinting forward again. His jersey was already dark with sweat, but he didn't slow down
The fanclub screamed every time he touched the ball, and you remained completely, and utterly silent.
He had a chance in the fifteenth minute: a loose ball that bounced his way just outside the box. He didn't hesitate, striking it first time, and the crowd held its breath as the ball curved toward the top corner.
The goalkeeper just barely got a hand to it and it deflected wide.
Juhoon swore, loud enough that you could just catch the sound of it from the bleachers. Then he turned and jogged back into position, shaking his head.
But in that moment—just before he turned—his eyes swept the stands.
And found you.
His whole body stilled for half a second and his expression flickered from frustration to something softer. He didn't smile nor wave but his hand came up, just briefly, and touched his chest, right over his heart.
Then he turned and disappeared back into the play.
Beside you, someone gasped. "Did he just—did you see that? Who was he looking at?"
You pulled your hoodie strings tighter and said nothing.
The score reached 1-0 by the second half when Juhoon stole the ball from a Busan midfielder.
It was a beautiful tackle: perfectly timed, perfectly clean. He won possession and burst forward, two defenders closing in on either side. The crowd was on its feet, the fanclub shrieking, the air electric.
He feinted left, went right, and suddenly he was through.
There was only one defender left, and the goalkeeper was rushing out toward him.
Juhoon didn't panic. He waited momentarily, and then he slotted the ball into the bottom corner, so casual it looked effortless.
The net rippled and the stands exploded.
Juhoon was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face in droplets before he looked up at the bleachers, directly to where you were, as though he had memorised exactly where you were positioned in the short second he had noticed your presence.
You had risen up the moment he scored, though your reaction was far less exaggerated than the fanclub that stood before you. Instead, when your eyes locked onto his, you beamed at him, a sight that was so rare to come by in public that Juhoon’s legs almost gave out.
His teammates mobbed him, pulling him into a group hug, ruffling his hair. but over their shoulders, you saw him grinning, that private grin that was just for you.
Quickly the team recollected themselves and continued the game, Juhoon’s eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer before he ran after them
The final whistle eventually blew indicating the end of the game, and Juhoon’s team ended up winning 3-1. He had scored twice, assisting on the third, and it was, by any measure, a phenomenal performance.
The crowd filtered out of the bleachers in waves. You waited at the bottom of the stands, pretending to check your phone, pretending you weren't watching the players pack up near the bench.
The fanclub was already there.
You saw them from across the field: a cluster of maybe fifteen girls, all wearing those matching headbands, all pressing forward like moths to a flame. They surrounded the bench area, calling Juhoon's name alongside the names of his many other teammates, waving their phones, jostling for position.
You watched one of them grab his arm before hgently extract himself. Another quickly pushed forward with a water bottle, and a third with a handmade card.
He was smiling that polite, practiced smile he used for people he didn't know, but his eyes kept drifting, scanning and searching, looking for you.
You shifted your weight from foot to foot, suddenly aware of how far away you were standing. How separate. How invisible.
You wondered what to do. The possibility of going over there and having to push through a stampede of teenage girls just to talk to your boyfriend made you feel sick. But you had also sat through the entire game and wanted to congratulate him on his plays, so leaving was out of the question.
A girl with pigtails grabbed his sleeve. "Juhoon! Is it true you're single? My friend wants to know!"
The other girls giggled, leaning in and waiting to hear his answer. Juhoon's expression didn't change. "I don't talk about that stuff."
"That's not a no!"
"It's not a yes either."
The girls laughed like he'd said something funny. You bit your lip, your hands curling into fists inside your hoodie pocket. You wanted to tell them that he’s yours, that they needed to back off, but the words got stuck in your throat.
Because you'd never said it out loud. Because you'd never claimed him publicly. Because for all these girls knew, the rumour was exactly that: a rumour, a ghost story, a maybe that didn't mean anything.
You couldn't blame them for trying.
Whilst lost in the maze of your thoughts, Juhoon's gaze finally found you.
You saw the exact moment it happened. His polite, practiced smile had flickered like a mask slipping, just for a second. His eyes locked onto yours across the field, and something in his expression shifted.
The girl with pigtails was still talking. Something about a photo, about waiting all season, about how her friend really liked him. But Juhoon wasn't listening anymore.
He was looking at you, and you were looking right back at him. Neither of you moved for a long, suspended moment. The fanclub chattered around him, entirely oblivious. The rest of the team packed up their bags whilst the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the grass.
Then Juhoon moved, just a shift of weight initially, a turning of shoulders. He gently extracted his arm from the girl's grip, murmured something you couldn't hear, and then he was walking straight toward you.
The fanclub turned, confused, following his gaze. One by one, they spotted you standing by the corner flag in your hoodie and sneakers, hands still buried in your pocket, heart pounding so loud you were sure everyone could hear it.
Whispers rippled through the group, likely questioning who you were and if you were the rumour girl, but you paid attention to none of it, your focus remained entirely on the boy appraoching you.
Juhoon didn't look back. His cleats squelched softly on the grass; his hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead; his cheeks were flushed from the game.
And his eyes—those dark, steady eyes you adored so deeply—were locked on yours, paying no mind to anything else around.
You should say something, you should smile, wave, do something normal. But your voice had abandoned you, and your feet felt nailed to the ground, and all you could do was watch him get closer.
He was ten meters away. Then five. Then—
"You scored," you blurted out, because the silence was too loud and your heart was too fast and you needed to fill the space between you with something. "Jju, you played so good today—"
His hands were on your cheeks before you could finish.
Warm palms with calloused fingers from years of gripping football balls, from hours of practice, from the way he'd been clenching and unclenching his fists all game, waiting. He cupped your face like you were something precious, something breakable, like you might shatter if he didn't hold you carefully enough.
And then he was pulling you toward him.
There was desperation in the way he closed the distance, months of restraint finally snapping. His fingers curled around the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, and suddenly his lips were on yours.
The world stopped.
The field. The sunset. The fanclub. The whispers. The entire universe condensed into a single point of contact: his mouth against yours, soft and certain and hungry, like he'd been waiting all day for this.
He kissed you as though he was afraid you'd disappear. Like every time he'd watched you walk away to your classroom, every time he'd bitten his tongue when someone asked about the rumour, every time he'd wanted to reach for your hand in the hallway and stopped himself—it had all been building to this.
His lips slanted over yours, and you felt the sigh he let out, felt the way his shoulders dropped like he'd been holding his breath for weeks and could finally exhale.
Your hands came up automatically, fisting in the fabric of his jersey. The material was damp with sweat beneath your fingers, but you didn't care.
His nose pressed against your cheek, his breath was warm on your skin, he tasted like the mint gum he always chewed before games, mixed with something saltier, something that was just him, a taste you couldn't name but would recognise anywhere, in any lifetime.
One of his hands slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into the hair at your nape. The other stayed where it was, thumb still stroking gentle, absent arcs against your cheekbone. He wasn't rushing anymore, the desperation had softened into something else: something deeper, something that felt like finally.
Behind you, someone gasped. A phone clattered to the ground. Someone else whispered, oh my god.
You didn't care.
You couldn't care. Not with the way he was kissing you, slow and deliberate now, like he was trying to memorise the shape of your lips and tell you everything he'd never been able to say.
When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard.
Your eyes fluttered open to find his were still closed, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your breath. His hands were still on you—one in your hair, one on your cheek—and neither of you moved to break the contact.
"Jju," you whispered.
"Took me long enough," he murmured, voice rough.
You let out a shaky laugh. "Took you long enough to what?"
He finally opened his eyes. They were dark, intense, holding yours like he was afraid you'd disappear if he blinked. "To do that," he said. "To stop lying and pretending you're just a rumour."
Behind him, the fanclub stood frozen. Some had their phones out: filming, probably, or taking photos. Others just stood there, mouths open, processing the fact that the boy they had been daydreaming about just kissed a girl in a hoodie by the corner flag.
You should have felt embarrassed, even self-conscious.
But Juhoon was still holding your face, still looking at you like you'd hung the moon, and somehow that made everything else fade away.
"The rumour," you said quietly. "It's not a rumour anymore."
"No," he agreed. "It never was."
You looked at him, seeing how the tension that had previously been in his shoulders now dissipated and left a calmness that only appeared when you were within his reach.
"Juhoon," you whispered.
"Y/N."
"You should probably let go of my face now."
He smiled gently, his thumb tracing your cheek once more as his eyes tracked your features. "Probably."
Instead he pulled you towards him again, this time his lips lingered on your forehead, a soft comfort against the lingering stares of everyone watching the two of you.
Though you could only focus on the boy in front of you, holding you with so much love and care your heart wanted to burst. You didn’t have it in your heart to even pretend to complain about the secret being out now, not if it meant he could love you outwardly like this more often.
SUMMARY a feminist podcast roasts a boyband live on air, and Keonho makes the mistake of getting intrigued by the one girl who refuses to be impressed.
PAIRING idol Keonho x podcaster Yn / female reader
FEATURING CORTIS, ILLIT Wonhee, NewJeans Hyein, H2H Ian, mentions of other idols
GENRE social media au with written parts, romance, crack, fluff (tba)
WARNINGS wony fc, umm lots of jokes? swearing, complete roasting of the male kind (= hopecore), kys/kym, underage drinking, tba
content: unestablished relationship, gentleman james, use of russian nicknames (since the inspiration for his character is aleksander who is russian), the reader dresses in chic and elegant clothing, not explicitely mentioned but the reader can't see (she is not blind, it is just implied she keeps her eyes closed), there are pictures used to give a visual to the drabble for the readers who never read veil!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤinspired by the veil manga!
pairing:: Officer!James x reader
synopsis:: In which, there is a thin veil that separates the relationship between you and james from friendship and lovers. But it doesn't matter, because what you both have transcends any other label of bond.
author's note: : this video was an eye opening experience for me for someone who adores both cortis and the veil manga.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ᭥ ̗̀ ̖́𓏲 ❟♡ : IN A BAR TOGETHER ١ !
𓏲 ، ݃ �� ، ݃Officer!James ❜;❜ who is overprotective over you, but never pushes it. You both leaned against the bar, your glasses filled with cocktails. Though James’s body was facing you, his protective gaze never left you.
He felt a man from across the room eyeing your bare back as he made his way towards you both. “Are you cold?" James asked you, with every intention to wrap his jacket around you.
You school your head in dismissal. “This dress is the star of the show! I do not want to cover it up" you smiled.
The voice of the man came from behind, which startled you, "You look gorgeous tonight, dear” he complimented.
You turned around to face him. "Thank you” you politely smiled.
“May I ask for the honour of your hand in a dance?" he asked.
James’s protective arms found your waist. “She is tired, and will leave for home now" he said.
The man opened his mouth to say something, but seeing the stern look on Jame’s face, he held back. “I understand," he said and left.
James exhaled. “Let's get you home," he said. "He seemed nice,” you pouted. "You didn't see it, but he was eyeing your back on his way to you. I know men like that." he said.
“Tell me then, dear, what kind of man are you?” you asked, your voice laced with humour.
“The right kind” James stated.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ᭥ ̗̀ ̖́𓏲 ❟♡ : DRESSING YOU UP ١ !
𓏲 ، ݃ �� ، ݃Officer!James ❜;❜ who loves dressing you up. He would often pick out your outfits while you were showering so he could see his pretty girl dressed beautifully. One time, he was late to arrange your outfit.
You stood there, with your towel wrapped around your body. “Oh my, James! you are here" you exclaimed, feeling his presence
The tips of James’s ears turned red in embarrassment. He turned his back to you. “My apologies, I shouldn't have walked in without knocking" he says.
you chuckled, “but you always come in without knocking"
“I wouldn't do that if I knew you were inside undressed!"
You frowned. “I don't mind you seeing me. After all, we live together" you told him.
James’s eyes widened. He turned around to face you and took off his jackets to cover your body. “Oh [name], you should not talk as such to any man" he said.
Before you could say anything, he walked out of your room, leaving the door closed. “Get dressed," he said from outside.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ᭥ ̗̀ ̖́𓏲 ❟♡ : DOING YOUR MAKE-UP ١ !
𓏲 ، ݃ �� ، ݃Officer!James ❜;❜ who loved serving you to your needs. Your heels tapped impatiently against the floor, as you waited for the elevator to finally reach the 15th floor.
"Patience is a virtue, [name]” James chuckled.
"I am nervous” you stated. "What if I mess up? Is my hair fine? Did I eat my lipstick off?”
James smiled. "You look perfectly fine, dear” he assured you.
You shake your head. "Did I eat my lipstick off during breakfast?” you ask again.
James pressed his lips together in a thin line, "Maybe” he said.
You cursed under your breath. "I knew this would happen,” you said as your hands shuffled inside your bag, trying to find your lipstick.
You take your lipstick out and hand it to James. "Put it on me, will you?” you asked.
“Of course," James obliged.
With careful precision, he glided the red lipstick across your soft lips. Perhaps with a bit of envy in him of the inanimate object that touched your lips so gracefully.
His gaze dropped at your tinted lips that now shone a bit under the dim elevator lights. “I can feel you staring, you know?” you said.
“My apologies, malyshka. It is so your lips resemble the pretty cherries you so adore” James smiled.
content: fluff, crack, simp martin, martin is a loverboy, oracle james (?), they all love nana, martin isnt so secretive about his superhero powers as others are, the friend group's love language is hating lol, they are all high schoolers, profanity.
pairing: Superhero!Martin x popular girl!reader
synopsis: In which, you find out there is a boy in school (which you were totally oblivious of) not only looked like your anime crush but also owned its related merch. You both strike a deal, in exchange of one of the merches he can take you on two dates. But oh, there is more to the man than he shows!
author's note: I was watching invincible and mark greyson is so cute... he could totally be martin and uh also is anyone on the same boat as me when it comes to superhero martin... or am I alone on this...
SUMMARY a feminist podcast roasts a boyband live on air, and Keonho makes the mistake of getting intrigued by the one girl who refuses to be impressed.
PAIRING idol Keonho x podcaster Yn / female reader
FEATURING CORTIS, ILLIT Wonhee, NewJeans Hyein, H2H Ian, mentions of other idols
GENRE social media au with written parts, romance, crack, fluff (tba)
WARNINGS minju fc, umm lots of jokes? swearing, complete roasting of the male kind (= hopecore), kys/kym, underage drinking, tba
synopsis, when keonho accidentally hits you at a music event and fails to realise, he messages you to apologise. one misunderstanding leads to animosity between the maknaes of both the groups. eventually, both groups join forces to get their stubborn youngest ones together.
pairing, ahn keonho x KATSEYE 7th member reader [smau + written series]
sypnosis when keonho posts a picture of his sister and seonghyeon, his bestfriend suddenly forgets how to act.
pairing non idol!eom seonghyeon x keonho's sister!reader. reader portrayed as stella from hearts2hearts. ahn keonho! as readers brother.
warnings ! alot of swearing, attempts at humour, gay jokes, seonghyeon is down bad and he makes it very obvious. pictures all from pinterest! do not mind the timestamps pls!!
a/n HI MY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!!! AGAIN THANK YOU SM FOR THE SUPPORT I LOVE YOU ALL SM!! tbh this chapter kinda js shows how close seonghyeon and reader got.. BUT. taki from &team appearance cuz thats OUR goat AND boynextdoor mention bc their new album js came out!! love you all and hope you enjoy it as always ❤️
tag list!! @seomikat @bluesayani @1giss4swft3 @ohhdudeheisflirting @letterstohyeon @leyluhahah @lunafoster @lolalollies @chaeryenchanted @kittsnewera @velevvlee @kpopsmutty69 @whlhql @sariy5h @sonyui @tibibibi123 @kpopenthusiast143 @hoszhe @bestboileeknow @snghynn @rikikiynikilcykiki @zelal173 @hyeonverse @thesedaysz @yurilover249 @seonghwaswifeuuuu @danerooni @cortisean @kallistaki12 @aerienchanted @jungwonsrealwife1 @rixieisfreaky @zuris12 @reysblr @hooligvnn @tinybitofhope @histeriamagic @enha7beshit @vikeuchu @ges1ca @nishiirkz @yyourbluelips @sese-blurbs @wonniiz @renjunniehavenn IM LITERALLY SO SORRY THAT I CAHT TAG EVERYONE
SYNOPSIS like most of the other students in your school, youve taken quite the liking towards the drummer of your school’s band. but unlike everyone else, he surprisingly says yes-to your totally impulse text asking him to date you.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
💬.. gulp .. hey guys .. im sorry i really wanted to get to this sooner but its been kinda crazy here at home but .. i find time .. even if its the early hours of the morning🙂↕️🙂↕️guess who didnt win that ticket war tho .. playin g ahah lmfao i lowk decided on waiting for the next tour cuz i wanna get vip when they have more songs .. 🫤and im busy whenever theyre coming near here 💔but i will be buying that lightstick Thanks. ALSO POTENTIAL PARIS FASHION WEEK SCHED PLS PLS PLS INVOLVE ME INVOLVE ME INVOLVE CORTIS PLEASSE😁😁😁😁
tell me if anyone wants an epilogue or sumn dumb CUZ I LOWK HATE THIS FIC😭😭😭😭😭 it feels unfinished i just Cannot bring myself to add to this story unless someone asks for it😃
