☆.ㅤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍.ㅤ ㅤ──ㅤㅤ your boyfriend takes you to his studio during a snowstorm and somehow makes it the most romantic date ever.
ᯓ ࣪ ˖ ִ ★ pairing ── martin edwards, f reader.
wc: 3,2k
a/n: hey guyss, just wanted to say that martin is bias wrecking me hard rn so i made this, enjoy ᯓ★ — thanks a lot for the support ily ‹𝟹 ‹𝟹 kisses
Big soft flakes fall slowly outside your window, covering the streets in white while the sky stays pale and cloudy above the city. For a few seconds you just stay under your blanket watching it quietly, your phone still resting beside your pillow where Martin’s last message waits unread.
A small smile pulls at your lips immediately.
You text him back while still half asleep, then force yourself out of bed to start getting ready.
Dates with Martin are never boring.
That is probably your favorite thing about him.
Some boyfriends just ask where you want to eat and call it a day, but Martin somehow turns every small outing into something memorable without even trying. One night he drags you through empty streets at midnight because he sees a cute dog he wants to take home. Another night he randomly buys instant cameras and spends hours taking ugly pictures of you just to keep them inside his phone case afterward.
He acts casual about everything too, like none of it matters that much, but you notice the details anyway.
The way he always walks on the side closest to the road.
The way he remembers every tiny thing you mention once.
He is romantic without admitting he is romantic.
You pick a warm cream colored sweater, a skirt with tights underneath, your prettiest scarf, and after fixing your hair carefully, you stare at yourself in the mirror for a second longer than necessary.
Martin always looks good.
And somehow that always makes you nervous before dates even after months together.
By the time he texts you that he arrived, your stomach already feels warm with excitement.
You hurry downstairs and instantly spot him, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jacket while snowflakes collect in his hair.
The second he sees you, his entire face changes. Like it always does around you.
“There you are,” he says quietly when you walk closer.
You smile immediately. “You’ve been waiting long?”
“Like thirty seconds.” He looks at you for another second before tilting his head slightly. “You look cute.”
Your face warms instantly.
“You say that every time.” you respond, pushing his chest slightly.
“Yeah but I always tell the truth.”
You look away automatically while he grins to himself like he enjoys embarrassing you more than anything else.
The cold air hits your cheeks immediately once you both start walking down the street together, snow crunching softly under your shoes while the city around you glows with blurred lights and warmth from cafés and stores.
Martin walks beside you casually at first, listening while you talk about something random you saw online earlier, occasionally laughing quietly at your dramatic storytelling.
Then after a few minutes, without saying anything, he reaches for your hand.
You expect him to hold it normally.
Instead, he slips your joined hands directly into his jacket pocket.
The warmth surprises you instantly.
Your words stop for half a second as his fingers lazily intertwine with yours inside the pocket, hidden away from the cold.
Martin keeps walking like he did not just make your heart completely melt.
“And then she literally said—” you continue awkwardly, trying to focus again.
“Mhm,” he hums, listening carefully.
His thumb brushes slowly against your fingers while you talk.
You glance at him quietly.
“You’re cold too,” you point out.
“But your hand is freezing.”
He shrugs lazily. “It’s fine, we’re getting warmer together.”
Snowflakes continue falling around you quietly while the city slowly gets brighter as night settles in completely. Every now and then Martin squeezes your hand gently inside his pocket while listening to you talk, occasionally throwing teasing comments just to see your reactions.
You genuinely think there is nobody easier to exist around than him.
Even silence with Martin never feels awkward.
At some point you both stop near a small café window to look at the desserts displayed inside, your attention immediately caught by a strawberry cake near the front.
Martin notices, obviously.
“You keep staring at it, so should I buy it?”
“Babe I said no, it’s fine!”
“That’s code for wanting it.”
You laugh quietly while he opens the café door before you can protest further.
“Relax. I’m literally buying cake, not a house.”
The warmth inside wraps around both of you immediately and while you wait near the counter, Martin casually brushes melting snowflakes from your hair.
His fingers move carefully through the strands.
“You’re getting snow all over your head.”
“Yeah but I’m not the pretty one.”
You stare at him for a second in complete disbelief.
He just smirks casually afterward like he did not say anything insane.
You genuinely do not know how he says things like that so naturally.
A little while later, holding the drinks and the cake packed away, you continue walking through the snowy streets together while Martin talks about music this time.
About a project he has been working on for days.
About a track that keeps annoying him because it still does not sound right.
You listen carefully even when half the technical terms make no sense to you, mostly because you love hearing him talk about things he cares about.
His whole face changes when he talks about music.
“You know what,” he suddenly says after a pause.
“Come to the studio with me.”
You blink in confusion. “Right now?”
You laugh softly. “Martin, you’re literally asking me to watch you work.”
“I don’t understand why you need me there.”
He looks at you for a second like the answer should be obvious.
“Because I want you there.”
The words hit you embarrassingly hard.
You look away immediately while he smiles to himself.
“You can sit on the couch looking pretty while I work. That’s basically your job.”
“It is to me, so please come.”
Eventually you agree, mostly because saying no to Martin when he looks at you like that feels impossible.
The walk toward the studio gets colder the longer it goes.
The snowfall slowly grows heavier, wind pushing flakes against your coats while the streets become softer and quieter under layers of white. Your scarf barely helps anymore and you laugh quietly when snow lands directly in your face.
“This is your fault,” you complain.
“You made us walk in a snowstorm.”
“It’s fine babe, we’ll survive.”
You shake your head while trying to brush snow out of your hair, but before you can, Martin suddenly steps closer.
Then he lifts both arms above your head awkwardly.
You stare at him in confusion.
You burst into laughter instantly.
His sleeves hang over part of your face while he walks beside you like a human umbrella, trying very seriously to shield your hair from the snow.
“Martin, this looks ridiculous.”
“I know you spent like two hours doing it.”
“Exactly. I’m preserving the investment.”
Your laughter gets louder while he keeps one arm stretched over your head dramatically, snow collecting all over his jacket instead.
“You’re getting covered in snow!”
“Yeah, because somebody has to survive in this relationship.”
You smile so hard your cheeks start hurting.
Even while complaining dramatically, he keeps checking your face every few seconds to make sure you are warm enough, slowing down whenever streets get slippery.
At one point your boots nearly slide on ice and his hand grabs your waist instantly before you can even react.
You nod quickly, slightly embarrassed.
“Careful,” he murmurs softer this time.
By the time you both finally reach the studio building, your shoes are covered in snow and your cheeks hurt from the cold.
Martin unlocks the door quickly before pulling you inside with him, warmth immediately wrapping around both of you. The sudden heat makes you sigh quietly in relief while snow melts slowly from your coats onto the floor.
“Oh my god,” you mumble, laughing softly while fixing your scarf. “I can’t feel my face anymore.”
Martin closes the door behind you before looking over at you immediately.
Without even answering, he steps closer and places both hands against your cheeks for a second, warming them gently. His fingers are cold too, but somehow it still feels comforting.
“There,” he says quietly.
You smile automatically. “That doesn’t help.”
He grins before leaning down and kissing you softly anyway, cutting off your complaints immediately.
The kiss is warm and slow compared to the freezing weather outside, and one of his hands slides behind your neck carefully while he checks your reaction like he always does. Martin kisses like he has all the time in the world, never rushed, always making you feel like you are the only thing he is thinking about.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours.
His studio feels cozy tonight.
Dim lights glow softly around the room while speakers, wires, notebooks, and random half empty coffee cups clutter almost every surface. The familiar scent of Martin’s cologne mixed with warm electronics fills the air, and somehow the place already feels comforting to you now after spending so many nights there with him.
You both shrug off your coats before settling onto the couch near his setup.
Martin immediately gets comfortable, opening his laptop and placing it across his lap while you sit curled beside him with your legs tucked under yourself. A few seconds later, without even looking away from the screen, he rests one arm lazily across your legs like it belongs there.
Music quietly fills the room while he starts working again, focused almost instantly.
You watch him for a little while before giving up and checking your phone instead.
Honestly, you have tried understanding what he does multiple times.
But after five minutes of watching him move random things around on a screen full of confusing audio tracks and tiny buttons, your brain always stops trying.
So eventually your attention drifts toward social media instead while Martin continues editing something carefully.
A few minutes pass quietly like that.
Then suddenly his hand squeezes your leg lightly.
You hum absentmindedly, still scrolling.
You look up in confusion only to find him already staring at you instead of the laptop.
“You’ve been ignoring me for ten minutes.”
You laugh softly. “Martin, I literally don’t understand anything you’re doing.”
“Then what is the point?”
He tilts his head slightly while looking at you in that unfairly soft way that always makes you nervous.
“You’re supposed to sit there and watch me while I work.”
You stare at him in disbelief. “You’re insane.”
You shake your head while smiling despite yourself and he just watches you for another second before suddenly leaning closer.
Then he kisses you again.
Quick this time. Just enough to completely distract you.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs quietly against your lips afterward.
Your stomach flips instantly.
You pull back slightly, already embarrassed. “I hate you.”
That only makes his smile grow.
Unfortunately, he sounds extremely confident about it too.
You hide part of your face inside your sleeve while he laughs softly before finally turning back toward his laptop again, clearly pleased with himself.
Snow continues falling heavily outside the studio windows while soft instrumentals play quietly through the speakers. Martin works for a while longer, occasionally mumbling frustrated things under his breath whenever something annoys him, and every time you laugh at him for it, he gives you the same dramatic offended look before going back to work.
At some point you stop checking your phone completely and just start watching him instead.
Watching the way his brows pull together when he focuses.
The way his fingers tap absentmindedly against your leg while thinking.
The way he quietly mouths lyrics to himself before typing something down quickly.
He looks so naturally cool doing literally anything that it almost annoys you.
Eventually he closes the laptop with a tired sigh before letting it slide onto the couch beside him.
You smile softly. “Proud of you.”
His expression changes immediately at that.
He moves closer until his shoulder presses against yours before lifting one hand toward your hair absentmindedly. His fingers slide slowly through the strands while he leans back against the couch, exhaustion finally replacing his earlier focus.
You stay quiet while he plays with your hair gently.
Then after a few seconds, he starts mumbling random lyrics under his breath.
Soft melodies barely above a whisper.
You look up at him quietly while he stares somewhere ahead thoughtfully, fingers still moving slowly through your hair without realizing it.
And suddenly your chest feels painfully full because he looks so adorable. You smile to yourself quietly.
Honestly, sometimes Martin feels too perfect to be real.
You love the way he takes care of you without making it obvious and the way he somehow notices everything about you all the time.
Even now, while half distracted and exhausted, one of his hands still keeps pulling the blanket higher over your legs every time it slips down slightly.
He notices you staring eventually.
You shake your head softly. “Nothing.”
He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Just say it.”
You laugh quietly while moving closer until your head rests properly against his shoulder.
“I’m just so in love with you.”
Your words come out softer than expected.
Martin goes quiet for a second, then his fingers slide gently under your chin, tilting your face up toward him.
“Well that’s good,” he murmurs softly before kissing your forehead. “Because I’m kinda obsessed with you.”
