୨୧ genre fluff, humor, established relationship, vacation, slice of life
✿ includes black!reader, resort date, poolside fluff, keonho acting like a golden retrieve, playful splashing, hand holding, forehead kisses, soft teasing, lots of laughter, soaking wet cuddles.
˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°
✎ summary
A relaxing day at the resort was supposed to mean you tanning by the pool while Keonho swam on his own… but after hearing “come in, please?” Turns out, some of the best vacation memories happen after giving in.
𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝
𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤
The resort pool sparkled under the bright afternoon sun like it had been poured straight from a postcard. Palm trees swayed lazily overhead, and the distant sound of waves mixed with the soft splash of water and laughter from other guests. You were stretched out on a thick lounge chair in your favorite swimsuit, skin already glistening with a fresh layer of sunscreen. The warmth felt perfect, soaking into every inch of you as you relaxed under the gentle heat.
Peace. Pure, uninterrupted peace.
Until—
“Babe! Come in! The water’s perfect!” Keonho’s voice carried across the pool deck, bright and eager like an excited puppy.
You cracked one eye open, lifting your sunglasses just enough to see him. Your boyfriend was waist-deep in the water, hair slicked back, grinning that big, boyish smile that usually made you weak. He waved both arms like you might somehow miss him.
“I’m good right here,” you called back, settling deeper into the chair with a satisfied hum. “Go swim, golden retriever.”
He pouted—actually pouted—then started doggy-paddling closer to the edge nearest you. “Please? Just for a little bit? I miss you.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Keonho, I literally saw you five minutes ago.”
“Five minutes too long,” he argued, resting his folded arms on the pool edge, chin on top. His eyes were big and pleading. “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun.”
You shook your head, turning the page in your book even though you hadn’t read a single word since he started this campaign. “My hair. I just did it and I do not want to get it wet. You know how long that takes to maintain.”
He tilted his head, still smiling like your very reasonable explanation was the cutest thing he’d ever heard. “We can dry it later. I’ll help. I’ll be so gentle.”
“Keonho.”
“Please?”
You sighed, trying to stay strong. “I’m tanning. Look at me—I’m finally getting that sunkissed glow I wanted. If I get in now, it’s over.”
He didn’t even blink. “You already look perfect. You’ll look even more perfect with me in the water. We can tan together after. Side by side. Couple’s tan.”
You lowered your sunglasses again, fighting a smile. He was ridiculous. And relentless.
For the next several minutes he kept it up—soft little “pleeease?”s mixed with dramatic splashes and fake sad faces. Every time you thought he’d given up, he’d pop up again with even more enthusiasm.
Eventually you closed your book with a defeated laugh. “You are so annoying.”
His whole face lit up. “Is that a yes?”
You stood up slowly, adjusting your swimsuit and pointing a warning finger at him. “If my hair gets ruined, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Resort couch. The uncomfortable one.”
“Worth it,” he said immediately, holding his arms out like he could already feel you in them.
You walked to the shallow steps, dipping one toe in. The water was cool and refreshing against your warm skin. Keonho was already moving toward you, practically vibrating with excitement. You hadn’t wanted to get your hair wet at all, but for him… you’d make an exception.
“See? Not so bad, right?” he cooed as you waded in up to your waist.
You narrowed your eyes at him. “My hair is still dry. Let’s keep it that way.”
He gave you the most innocent look in the world… right before he scooped up a handful of water and playfully flicked it at your shoulder.
“Keonho!”
One thing led to another. You tried to splash him back in retaliation, but he was faster—grabbing your waist and pulling you deeper with a bright laugh. You squealed, half-scolding, half-giggling as water splashed up around you both.
“See? This is better than tanning alone,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind once you were both chest-deep. His chin rested on your shoulder, lips brushing your temple in a soft kiss.
You leaned back into him despite yourself, the cool water and his warm body creating the nicest contrast. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I know,” he said cheerfully, pressing another kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth until you turned and kissed him properly. The water lapped gently around you as you melted into it—slow, sweet, sun-warmed kisses that tasted like vacation and laughter.
Eventually he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes soft. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re still doing my hair later,” you teased, flicking water at his nose.
He grinned, then suddenly lifted you up bridal-style, spinning you both in the water as you shrieked with laughter. The sound echoed across the pool, bright and carefree.
You ended up floating together, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands steady on your back. The sun kissed your shoulders. Your scarf was definitely a lost cause now, but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Keonho rested his forehead against yours, both of you smiling like idiots.
“Best vacation ever?” he whispered.
You kissed him again, slow and lingering.
“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s a blast.”
The water sparkled around you as he held you closer, the rest of the resort fading into a warm, happy blur. Sometimes the best memories really did start with a little begging… and a very persistent boyfriend who just wanted to enjoy the sun and well you,also!
could u do a black reader and bf keonho fic where they go to a resort and she tans while he swims and then he begs her to come in the water and they enjoy AND ITS A BLAST :3
late nights, shared glances, fingers brushing like accidents that keep happening. you want him. he knows it. he keeps you close enough to feel chosen, far enough to stay safe.
so you finally ask. not a confession,an ultimatum. what are we doing?
he doesn’t answer right away
Then not at all
✧ includes »
situationship • mixed signals • emotional avoidance • slow burn tension • unread messages • unsent drafts • soft moments t• avoidance as an answer • reader wants more • seonghyeon being frustratingly quiet
feedback & reblogs are appreciated!
a/n:sorry guys I haven’t been writing 🥹 school is draining me.. but anywho here’s a smau (cut me some slack it’s my first one 🙏🏾)
୨୧ genre fluff, humor, established relationship, slice of life
✿ includes black!reader, beauty supply store date, keonho’s first beauty supply trip, lots of questions,, keonho paying for everything, lots of kisses & soft moments.
✎ summary
What was supposed to be a quick trip to the beauty supply store turns into an entire date after Keonho insists on tagging along. Between asking a million questions, recommending hairstyles, and secretly tossing random things into the cart, you quickly realize he isn’t leaving empty-handed… especially after you make him pay for all the damage.
A/N:im back lovely’s!! Sorry guyos..🥹 my phone broke for like months and when I got it fix I lost motivation for awhile!
Feedback &reblogs appreciated!!
You were already halfway out the door, keys in hand, when Keonho suddenly popped up behind you.
“Can I come with you?”
You paused, turning to look at him. “No, babe. What do you need to come to the hair store for?”
He immediately started pouting, bottom lip out, big doe eyes activated. You tried to stay strong for all of five seconds before sighing. “Fine. Come on.”
The whole drive there he kept asking the dumbest questions. “Why do they sell so many different colors of hair?” “Do you really need that much hair?” “What’s the difference between yaki and deep wave?” “Is the lady on the front of the package the one who owns the store?” You were laughing so hard by the time you pulled into the parking lot that your cheeks hurt.
You’d only planned to run in and out the beauty supply real quick. Grab the bundles for your appointment tomorrow, maybe some edge control if they had your usual, and bounce. But the second you stepped inside, Keonho’s head was on swivel. The bright lights, the rows and rows of colorful products, the walls lined with hair packages — it was like he’d entered another planet. He stayed glued to your side, one hand lightly on your waist while the other kept drifting toward things that had no business in your cart.
“Keonho,” you warned softly when he dropped a random glittery lip gloss into the basket.
“It’s sparkly like you,” he said innocently, already reaching for something else.
You stopped in the middle of the aisle. “This store is expensive, babe. I am not paying for all this random stuff you’re collecting like Pokémon cards.”
He just grinned that sweet, mischievous smile and kissed your temple. “I’ll carry it.”
You sighed, but your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always does when he’s being soft and clingy.
As you moved through the aisles, he kept pointing at the mannequin heads and different bundles.
“You should do this one next time,” he said, holding up a pack of deep wave. “It’ll look really pretty when you put it half up. Or maybe the curly one? The one that bounces when you walk.” He demonstrated by shaking his head, making you burst out laughing.
“Boy, you don’t even know what half these terms mean.”
“I’m learning,” he said seriously, like he was taking notes in his head. “For you.”
You melted a little.
He kept tossing random things in when he thought you weren’t looking: a cute satin bonnet with stars on it (“for your curls”), some fancy shea butter (“your skin always smells so good when you use this”), even a pack of colorful claw clips. Every time you side-eyed him, he’d just pull you closer and press a kiss to your cheek or your shoulder, mumbling, “Let me spoil you.”
At one point you paused near the front door and pointed at the wall of printed photos.
“See those?” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “Those are the people who tried to steal. They put their pictures right on the door as a warning. So don’t get any ideas, mister.”
Keonho’s eyes went wide for a second before he realized you were joking. He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “I would never. I’m a good boyfriend. I pay for things.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh you’re paying for everything today, trust.”
He didn’t even argue. Just kept following you around, asking a million questions about everything he saw, recommending hairstyles like he’d suddenly become a YouTube hair guru, and stealing little kisses every chance he got.
By the time you got to the register, the cart was suspiciously full. The total made your eyes water a bit, but Keonho just pulled out his card with zero hesitation, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders while the cashier rang everything up.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mumbled against his chest once you were back outside, bags in hand.
He shrugged, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I wanted to. Plus now I know where to take you on dates. Beauty supply store. Very romantic.”
You laughed, leaning into him as you walked to the car. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling down at you, eyes full of that quiet, warm love that always made your stomach flip. “But I’m your ridiculous.”
He opened the car door for you, helping load the bags like the gentleman he was. And as he pulled out of the parking lot, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, you couldn’t help but think that what was supposed to be a quick errand had turned into one of the sweetest, silliest dates you’d had in a while.
late nights, shared glances, fingers brushing like accidents that keep happening. you want him. he knows it. he keeps you close enough to feel chosen, far enough to stay safe.
so you finally ask. not a confession,an ultimatum. what are we doing?
he doesn’t answer right away
Then not at all
✧ includes »
situationship • mixed signals • emotional avoidance • slow burn tension • unread messages • unsent drafts • soft moments t• avoidance as an answer • reader wants more • seonghyeon being frustratingly quiet
feedback & reblogs are appreciated!
a/n:sorry guys I haven’t been writing 🥹 school is draining me.. but anywho here’s a smau (cut me some slack it’s my first one 🙏🏾)
𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ✿ he’s obsessed with your lipgloss 𝟏𝟎𝟓 bf!seonghyeon x fem!reader, he loves your cherry lips ☁︎ fluff, skinship, kissing, petnames, flirting, playful teasing … ᥬᩤ 𝐑𝐈𝐑𝐈’𝐒 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 🍒
RIRI’S NOTES SHE’S BACKKKKKKKK!!! riri comeback how we feelin? feeling great icl but school will kick my butt BUT THATS OKAY CAUSE I HAVE YOU GUYS WOO!! i have been wanting to post this for so long so ummm hope you like! tryna get my flowstate back hehe! anywho, hugs and kisses!
seonghyeon was beyond obsessed. so far beyond you couldn’t find a word for it. your lipgloss is one of your favourite things in the whole world, and clearly seonghyeon loves it more than you do.
every time you’re together, his eyes never stay away from your lips. like literally never. every time he sees that familiar shine on your lips he already knows which gloss it is. your cherry lipgloss.
you don’t know why he likes it so much. you really don’t. every time he sees your lips glisten he kisses you. and whenever it’s not your signature cherry, he gets all pouty and does not want you to kiss him. he acts like a child over a lipgloss flavour.
it’s not even healthy to be consuming lipgloss but because it’s ‘so life changing’ seonghyeon just can’t help himself. he’ll be all over you, forcing you to make those glossy red kiss marks on his face but also to let him kiss all of it off your lips.
today was no different.
“baby.” he breathed out as he pulled away, a hint of a pout on his lips. you saw this coming. you decided to be a big tease and not wear your cherry lipgloss but your strawberry instead just to trick him.
“what, hyeon?” you asked innocently, fighting off the grin that twitched at the corners of your lips. his frown deepened, his arms crossing. “you know what.” he mumbled, his voice small and whiny like the same of a toddler.
“i don’t. enlighten me.” he huffed, his lower lip jutting out even more. “you’re wearing flipping strawberry lipgloss, baby. it tastes horrid!” he uncrossed his arms, shoving his fists into his pillow like it was the reason for this. you stifled a laugh, placing a hand over your lips.
he wasn’t lying though. you’ve accidentally licked it off your lips before and it tastes like candy death. “stop laughing, it’s not funny. i don’t want your kisses anymore.” he turned away, side-eyeing you. you cackled, messing with his hair. “you’re not even supposed to be eating lipgloss, hyeon.”
“i don’t care, baby, it’s life changing.” he whined, hitting the pillow again. you had already timed his words in your head. you shook your head, clutching your stomach from all the laughing.
you took out your cherry lipgloss from your pocket, putting it on. you watched seonghyeon’s eyes light up so much happiness you wouldn’t have thought that he was throwing a tantrum a few seconds ago.
“cherry lipgloss? kiss me right now, baby.” he said, sounding more like a plea than a command. you giggled, flashing him that adorable smile he just couldn’t resist. in an instant, his lips were on yours, his arms never hesitating to pull you closer.
you giggled again, wrapping your arms around his neck. he smiled against your lips, his thumb drawing circles on your hip bones through the fabric of your pants. then, when your lungs burned, you pulled away, your eyes sparkling with mischief and love of course.
“don’t tease me like that, i will always love your cherry lipgloss!” he said, licking his lips to prove a point. you laughed again, burying your head in his chest. “you’re so cute, hyeon.” you gushed, your voice muffled. seonghyeon smiled, patting your head.
you’re effortlessly nonchalant calm, unreadable, and hard to impress. juhoon, on the other hand, is openly whipped, happily doting on you through a simple shopping trip. while you keep your reactions minimal, juhoon slowly learns that your excitement isn’t absentit’s just saved for him.
INCLUDES 》
casual flirting, juhoon being extremely down bad, reader being effortlessly nonchalant, light physical touch, public affection (hand-holding)
This for the anons who requested!
The mall is crowded, bright, and noisy
You walk through it like none of that matters.
Juhoon, on the other hand, is practically vibrating next to you.
“Okay—wait—wait.” He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you in front of a store. “This place. Please. Two minutes.”
You glance up at the sign. Then at him.
“…Alright.”
His grin is immediate.
Inside, he’s gone within seconds moving from rack to rack, pulling things out, holding them up like he’s presenting gifts.
“This one,” he says, holding up a hoodie. “This color? On you? Crazy.”
You nod once. “It’s cool.”
Juhoon laughs under his breath. “You say that about everything.”
You shrug. “Because it is”
He doesn’t seem offended. If anything, he looks fond.
He picks up a jacket next, draping it over your shoulders without asking. You don’t react, just adjust it slightly
“You’d wear this,” he says confidently. “I can tell.”
“Mm,” you hum. “You know me well.”
That makes him pause.
“…I try to,” he admits, quieter.
At the fitting rooms, you take the pile of clothes from his arms and disappear behind the curtain. Juhoon waits outside, pretending to be casual while failing misrably.
When you step out, he looks up—and freezes.
“Oh,” he says softly. “Yeah. I knew it.”
You glance at yourself in the mirror.
“It’s fine.”
“Fine?” He shakes his head, smiling. “You look really good. Like—really.”
You meet his eyes in the reflection. Hold them.
“…Thanks.”
It’s subtle, but he notices. He always does.
The rest of the trip, he caries your bags, walks a little closer, keeps glancing at you like he’s checking you’re still real. At some point, he reaches for your hand without thinking.
You let him.
Outside, the air is cooler. The mall noise fades behind you.
Juhoon stops walking first.
“Hey,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I ask you something?”
You look at him. “Go ahead.”
“Do you ever get excited?” he asks, half-joking, half-serious. “Or is this just… your thing?”
You stare at him for a second too long.
Then you sigh.
“Okay,” you say. “Don’t freak out.”
He blinks. “What—”
You grab his sleeve, eyes lighting up, words spilling out all at once. “I’ve literally been holding it in all day because I didn’t want to seem weird but I loved everything you picked out and I was lowkey geeking the whole time and you looked so cute getting excited and I wanted to say something but—”
Juhoon stares at you, stunned.
“…You were?” he asks, voice cracking slightly.
You nod, cheeks warm. “Yeah. For you.”
There’s a beat.
Then he laughs—soft, disbelievingand pulls you into a hug without thinking. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”
You relax against him, smiling. “Told you I liked listening.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes bright.
martin didn’t mean to leave you behind. he didn’t notice when you grew quieter, when your applause became the only place you were allowed to exist. he was busy chasing the light, busy becoming someone the world could love loudly.you loved him anyway. you loved him before the stages, before the screaming crowds, before his name stopped sounding like home.but as his world gets brighter, yours starts to feel darker, and somewhere between pride and heartbreak, you realize that loving him might mean learning how to disappear. or alternatively, you learn what it feels like to stop clapping.
Genre»
angst, slow burn emotional neglect, childhood friends to lovers to strangers, quiet heartbreak
You were there before the lights, before the applause, before the world knew his name.
Loving him felt easy then.
Loving him now feels like clapping from the dark.
You learned how to love Martin quietly.
Not because you wanted to, but because loving him loudly didn’t fit anymore.
There was a time when your presence didnt have to compete with anything. When you could sit next to him in silence and feel like that was enough. When his attention didn’t feel like a limited resource you had to ration carefully so you didn’t seem needy.
Now, everything about him was louder.
The apartment was crowded, warm with bodies and noise and excitement that buzzed under your skin. Someone had turned the music up too high. Someone was laughing near the kitchen. Someone kept saying Martin’s name like it was something special to hold in their mouth.
He stood in the middle of it all, bright and effortless, smiling so wide it almost looked painful. You watched people gravitate toward him without thinking, like they were pulled by something magnetic. He was used to it now. You could tell by the way he leaned into it instead of shrinking away.
You stood off to the side, shoulder against the wall, arms loosely crossed. Not closed off. Just… contained.
You told yourself this feeling was pride.
It had to be.
Because you loved him. You had always loved him. And this was what loving someone looked like when they got everything they ever dreamed of. You stepped back so they could step forward.
At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.
You watched him laugh at something someone said, head tipping back, eyes crinkling at the corners. That laugh used to belong to quiet moments. To you sitting on the floor of his childhood bedroom while he struggled through chords, tongue caught between his teeth, glancing at you for reassurance every few seconds.
You used to be the first place he looked.
Now you were just… somewhere in the room.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket. A message from someone you didn’t really feel like responding to. You ignored it and slipped the phone back, eyes returning to Martin without thinking
Someone handed him a drink,Someone clapped him on the back. Someone hugged him too tightly. Martin accepted it all easily, grin never fading.
Then his phone buzzed.
You noticed immediately. You always did.
His expression shifted as he looked at the screen. Something electric ran through him, like a spark catching. He looked up, eyes wide.
“We charted,” he said, voice loud enough for everyone. “Top ten!"
The room exploded.
Cheering, shouting, people jumping up and down. Someone yelled something you couldn’t quite hear. Arms wrapped around Martin from every direction. He laughed, overwhelmed and glowing, hands gripping whoever was closest.
You clapped.
The sound felt too small. Like it disappeared before it reached him.
You kept clapping anyways
You didn’t stop when your palms started to sting a little. You didn’t stop when your throat tightened. You didn’t stop when you realized he hadn’t looked at you yet.
Eventually, your eyes met across the room.
Just for a second.
He smiled when he saw you. A softer smile than the one he gave everyone else. Familiar. Almost apologetic. He lifted his hand in a small wave, like you were someone he knew well but hadn’t spoken to in a while.
You waved back.
Your smile felt automatic. Practiced.
He didn’t come over right away. He stayed where he was, soaking it all in. And you didn’t blame him. You would have done the same if the roles were reversed. You would have wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.
Still, something settled heavy in your chest.
You remembered a different night. Years ago. Just the two of you sitting on the hood of his car, legs dangling, summer air thick and warm. He’d been nervous, rubbing his palms against his jeans, eyes fixed on the sky.
“I think I could really do it,” he’d said. “Like… really make something of this.”
You hadn’t hesitated. Not for a second.
“I know you can.”
He’d looked at you then, really looked at you. Like your belief mattered more than anyone else’s.
“I don’t think I could do it without you.”
You didn’t know then how dangerous that sentence would become.
Eventually, Martin pulled away from the crowd and walked toward you, energy still buzzing but quieter now. His smile softened when he reached you, like he was relieved you were still there.
“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He sounded sincere. He always did. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Here.
Not with him. Just here.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” you said.
He squeezed your arm briefly, already half-turned back toward the room. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Just… a lot happening.”
Later had become a word with no shape. No guarantee.
You nodded anyway.
He left again, slipping easily back into the noise like he belonged there.
You stayed for another ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Long enough to prove something to yourself. You weren’t sure what.
When you finally grabbed your jacket and slipped out, no one noticed.
The hallway was quiet. Cool. Your footsteps echoed softly as you walked, each one grounding and lonely all at once.
Outside, the night air hit your face and you inhaled sharply. You leaned against the building, head tipping back, eyes closing.
You hadn’t asked for this. For the slow erosion. For the way loving him started to feel like standing behind a curtain while the crowd screamed his name.
You wondered how long you could keep applauding before it broke you.
It hadn’t always been like this.
There was a time when Martin’s life felt braided with yours so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. You grew up together in all the ways that mattered. Shared snacks, shared secrets, shared silence.
He used to climb through your bedroom window when he couldn’t sleep, landing awkwardly on the floor with a whispered apology. You’d pretend to be annoyed while scooting over to make room for him on your bed.
“You okay?” you’d ask.
He’d nod, then shake his head, then sigh.
You’d listen. Always.
You were the first person he played his songs for. The first person to tell him they were good, even when they weren’t yet. You watched him fall in love with music the same way you fell in love with him. Slowly. Completely. Without a backup plan.
When he got the call that changed everything, he cried.
He cried into your shoulder, hands shaking, voice breaking as he said your name like he needed you to anchor him to reality.
“I don’t want to lose this,” he said. “I don’t want to lose us.”
“You won’t,” you promised.
You meant it.
You just didn’t know that sometimes people don’t mean to leave. They just keep walking forward and assume you’ll follow.
At first, you did.
You adjusted to the late nights, the rehearsals, the missed calls. You told yourself it was temporary. That things would settle once everything became routine.
But the routine never came.
Instead, there were schedules taped to walls, meetings you weren’t part of, conversations that stopped when you walked into the room. Martin started checking his phone constantly. Started apologizing for things before you even had a chance to feel upset about them.
“Sorry, I have to take this.”
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“Sorry, I’m just really tired.”
You accepted every apology.
You didn’t want to be another thing pulling at him.
There were moments that almost felt like before. Late nights when everyone else was asleep and he’d sit beside you on the couch, head resting on your shoulder, fingers laced loosely with yours.
“You okay?” he’d murmur.
“Yeah,” you’d say.
He’d kiss your hair, soft and absent, already half-asleep.
You’d stare at the wall, heart aching, wondering when “almost” had become the best you could get.
The breaking point didn’t come with yelling or tears or slammed doors.
It came quietly.
A showcase. A big one. Industry people. Cameras. Bright lights.
You stood in the crowd, heart pounding, watching him on stage. He looked unreal under the lights. Confident. Alive. Like this was exactly where he was meant to be.
And you were proud.
God, you were so proud.
When the crowd cheered, you cheered louder than anyone. When he smiled, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds.
But when he looked out into the audience, scanning faces, your chest tightened.
He didn’t find you.
Afterward, backstage was chaos. People congratulating him, pulling him into conversations, asking for photos. You hovered near the edge, waiting patiently like you always did.
When he finally spotted you, his face lit up. “There you are.”
You smiled. “You were amazing.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in, kissed your cheek. Quick. Distracted. “Did you see the crowd?”
“I did.”
“I can’t believe this is real.”
“I know.”
He glanced over your shoulder, already being called again. “I’ll find you later, okay?”
You didn’t answer right away.
“Okay,” you said eventually.
Later never came.
You went home alone that night. Sat on your bed in the dark, still wearing the clothes you’d picked out carefully, heart pounding in your ears.
You realized something then.
You weren’t part of his life anymore.
You were part of his past that he carried with him out of habit.
That realization hurt more than anger ever could.
So you started pulling back.
Not dramatically. Just… gently.
You stopped waiting up. Stopped rearranging your schedule. Stopped being the one who reached out first.
Martin didn’t notice at first.
Then one day, he did.
“You’ve been distant,” he said, brow furrowed. “Did I do something?”
You looked at him, really looked at him. At the tired eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The boy you loved, buried under a life that didn’t have room for you anymore.
“No,” you said softly. “You didn’t.”
That was the truth. And it hurt more than a lie.
The night you finally left, there was no argument.
You packed quietly. Left a note on the kitchen counter. Nothing dramatic. Just honest.
I love you.
I just can’t keep loving you like this.
You didn’t watch the show anymore.
But sometimes, late at night, you still remembered the sound of your hands clapping in a room where he shined brighter than anything else.
-
You thought leaving would hurt all at once.
Like ripping something out. Like screming Like finally letting the grief crash over you in one clean wave.
Instead, it hurt slowly.
It hurt in grocery stores when you reached for the brand he liked without thinking. It hurt when you heard his voice on the radio and didn’t turn it off fast enough. It hurt in the quiet moments when there was nothing to distract you from the empty space he used to fill.
You didn’t block him.
You told yourself that was maturity. That it meant you weren’t bitter.
The truth was simpler. You didn’t trust yourself to say no if he reached out.
At first,he didn’t.
Days passed. Then weeks.
You watched from a distance as his life continued to expand. New interviews. New performances. Smiling photos where he looked happier than ever. The comments filled with praise and hearts and people who thought they knew him.
You wondered if anyone could tell he was missing something.
You wondered if he even felt it.
Sometimes, late at night, you imagined him standing in his kitchen staring at the note you left behind, reading it over and over until the words lost meaning. Sometimes you imagined him shrugging, folding it up telling himself it was for the best.
Both versions hurt.
The night it finally happened, you were half-asleep.
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once. Then again.
You stared at the screen, heart already racing before you even processed the name.
Martin.
You didn’t pick up right away.
You let it ring until it stopped. Let the silence stretch. You told yourself you were protecting yourself. That if you answered, everything you worked so hard to hold together would come undone.
The phone buzzed again.
A message this time.
"Can you please talk to me."
Your throat tightened.
You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders like armor. The room felt too quiet, like it was waiting.
Another message.
"I didn’t realize how bad it was."
You closed your eyes.
Too late had a sound. It sounded exactly like that sentence.
You typed. Deleted. Typed again.
"What do you want me to say?"
The response came immediately.
"That you’re still here"
Your chest ached so sharply you had to press your pam against it.
You stared at the screen for a long time before replying.
"I was always here."
The typing bubble appeared Disappeared. Appeared again.
"I know"
"I just didn’t see it."
That hurt worse than anything else he could have said.
You didn’t answer.
Minutes passed Then longer.
Another message came through longer this time.
"I'm standing in the do right now and it’s quiet and I don’t know when it started feeling like this"
"I keep thinking you’ll walk in."
"You always did.."
Your hands shook.
You remembered all the times you had walked in. All the times you had waited. All the times you had stayed quiet so he could be loud.
You typed one last message.
"I can’t keep clapping from the dark Martin."
There was no reply right away.
You set the phone down, heart pounding, eyes burning. You didn’t cry. You felt past crying, like something hollowed out where the tears should be.
The phone buzzed again.
You picked it up.
"Then come back."
"Please."
Your breath caught.
You stared at that word. Please.
It was the word you’d been waiting years to hear. The one you’d imagined would fix everything if he ever said it.
And still, you didn’t move.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.
You thought about the lights. The noise. The way he shined. The way you faded.
You thought about how much it took to finally choose yourself.
The typing bubble appeared on your screen.
You waited.
And waited.
Then it disappeared.
No message followed.
The screen stayed dark.
You didn’t know if he was waiting for you to answer.
You didn’t know if he’d fallen asleep.
You didn’t know if this was the moment everything changed, or the moment it finally ended.
You sat there in the quiet, phone warm in your hand, heart split clean down the middle.
Somewhere, the show was still going on.
And you were no longer sure if you were meant to walk back into the light
or let the silence finish what the applause started.
Taglist!!
@userrrwhatt @uhbuhhbuhbbhu @iminthenewhell
Feedback & reblogs are appreciated
Please don't copy or upload any of my work on different platforms :(
when james notices you getting closer to the other members, jealousy creeps in quietly—heavy, ugly, unwanted. he tries to swallow it, tries to trust what you already have… until you remind him exactly where you belong, curled into his chest, choosing him without hesitation.
That’s the thing about him—he never does when it matters most.
He notices it in fragments.
You laughing a little too freely with Juhoon in the kitchen.
Your shoulder brushing Martin’s as you sit closer on the couch.
Keonho handing you something and lingering just a second longer than necessary.
None of it is wrong.
None of it crosses a line.
But jealousy doesn’t need a reason. It just needs a crack.
James watches from across the room, jaw tight, fingers flexing at his side. He tells himself he’s being ridiculous. You’ve been together too long for this. You’ve chosen him every day since. Still, something ugly twists in his chest—quiet, persistent, whispering what if.
He hates that part of himself.
So instead of pulling you closer, he pulls away.
When you sit beside him, he shifts.
When you reach for his hand, he laces his fingers together and pretends he didn’t notice.
When you lean in to whisper something, he answers with a hum, eyes fixed anywhere but you.
You feel it. Of course you do.
Later that night, when the dorm finally settles into something calm and quiet, you find him alone in his room. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Elbows on his knees. Head low.
“James?” you say softly.
He looks up, surprised—like he didn’t expect you to follow him.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, stepping closer.
He swallows. His voice comes out rough.
“…Nothing.”
You don’t buy it.
You sit in front of him anyway, knees brushing his. You tilt your head, searching his face—the way his brows pull together, the way his eyes look tired instead of annoyed.
“You’ve been distant all day,” you murmur. “Did I do something?”
That’s what breaks him.
His shoulders slump, breath leaving him like he’s been holding it in for hours.
He laughs once, quiet and bitter.
“I know it’s stupid,” he says. “I know you didn’t do anything.”
Then, softer—almost ashamed
“I just… didn’t like how close you were with them.”
Your chest aches.
“James…”
He finally meets your eyes, and there it is—raw, unguarded.
“I trust you,” he says quickly, like he needs you to know that. “I do. I just—sometimes I see them look at you and I forget how lucky I am. And I hate that it gets in my head.”
You don’t argue.
You don’t tease.
You don’t minimize it.
You reach for him.
You climb onto the bed, settling between his legs, and wrap your arms around his waist. His breath stutters when your forehead presses into his chest.
Then you cuddle closer. Intentionally. Possessively. Comfortingly.
“I’m yours,” you say simply. “I always have been.”
His hands hesitate—then slide into your hair, pulling you in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
“I don’t care how close I am to them,” you whisper. “They’re family. But you?”
You look up at him.
“You’re home.”
James exhales shakily and buries his face in your shoulder.
God. That’s all he needed.
His arms wrap around you fully now, tight, protective. One hand rubs slow circles into your back. The other holds you like he’s relearning the shape of you.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “For pulling away.”
You smile against his chest. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling things.”
He presses a kiss into your hair, lingering.
Then another.
Then one to your temple.
“Stay,” he whispers.
You settle more comfortably into his arms, legs tangled, heartbeat steady beneath your ear.
“Always.”
And just like that, the jealousy fades—replaced by warmth, reassurance, and the quiet certainty that no one else could ever take your place.
Like she's really engertic compared to him basically his happy pill n stuff?? Maybe like their at the dorm baking or Smth!!
(Anytjinng is finee!!)
Summary: A quiet night in the dorm turns warm and messy when your restless energy pulls Juhoon out of his head and into the kitchen with you Baking fails, soft laughter, and the unspoken way you become his happy pill without trying
Includes: dorm setting, baking chaos, second person rader, Juhoon x chalant reader, comfort without forcing it
More undercut
The dorm is already too quiet when you decide that’s a problem
You’re standing in the kitchen in socks cabinet doors open, rereading the same recipe like it might change if you stare long enough. The clock on the microwave blinks past midnight. Somewhere down the hall a door shuts. You sigh dramatically
“Okay” you mumble to yourself “we’re fixing the vibe.”
That’s when Juhoon wanders in, hair still damp, hoodie a little too big, eyes tired in that familiar way. He pauses when he sees flour on the counter
“…What are you doing.”
You look up, instantly smiling.“baking. Obviously.”
“At twelve?”
“Don’t act like time is real,” you say, handing him a spoon. “Sit. You’re participating.”
He doesn’t argue just leans against the counter, watching you bounce around like the room runs on your energy alone. You hum, you spin, you nearly crash into him
“Careful,” he says, hand catching your wrist
You grin “See? You care"
You read the recipe out loud and absolutely butcher it.
“Teaspoon, tablepoon… same family.”
“That’s not how measurements work,” Juhoon says
You dump it in anyway“Too late!”
He groans. “You’re impossible
“And yet,” you say, pointing the spoon at him, “you’re still here”
The oven beeps and you gasp like it’s an enemy. You talk while mixing, jumping topics, laughing at nothing, filling the space wthout trying. Juhoon stays quiet but his shouders loosen, his breathing evens out.
“You’re tense today,” you say lightly
He shrugs. “Just tired”
You nod, then bump his hip with yours. “Then I’ll be loud for both of us.”
The cookies come out wrong. Burnt, raw tragic You bite one and immediately make a face
“Oh that’s bad.”
Juhoon laughs, real and sudden He freezes like he didn’t mean to.
You look at him, softer now “There you are.”
“…You’re annoying,” he murmurs.
You lean into him, flour smearing his hoodie. “Yeah...But I’m yours soo.."
He doesn’t move away The kitchen hums quietly, night pressed against the windows, and for once his head feels a little less heavy just by standing next to you
Note-I was a bit lazy with this one... finals are coming up so I'm stressed 💔 no proofread
you meet seonghyeon in LA by accident — soft moments, curl-playing, and feelings you’re both too shy to name. when he leaves for korea, long-distance only pulls you closer. months later, you move to seoul for school… and the reunion (plus his members teasing him) is everything.
✧ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs »
black!reader • predebut!sh • long-distance softness • curl-playing habit • members clowning him • fluffy w/ a hint of angst
@userrrwhatt for the request!
LA isn’t the kind of place where you expect fate to smack into you literally. But the door you swung open hit someone, and before you could even panic, a soft laugh slipped out of him.
“I i’m so sorry!” you blurt, reaching out.
The boy in front of you rubs his shoulder, smiling like he’s trying not to make you feel worse. “It’s okay. Strong first impression, though.”
He’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you blink twice. Soft eyes, shy smile, gentle voice.
You tell him your name.
He tells you his: Seonghyeon.
And somehow you’re suddenly walking around the outdoor mall together like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
He doesn’t say what he’s doing in LA at first. You notice the way he keeps pulling down his cap, the way he checks over his shoulder.
“So you’re not famous,” you tease lightly, “but you act like someone will recognize you.”
He groans. “I’m a trainee. I’m… training to maybe be famous someday. Maybe.”
You just shrug. “It’s LA. Everyone’s chasing something.”
He laughs — really laughs and that’s how everything starts.
He notices your curls. More than notices he watches them bounce when you move. You catch him staring and raise an eyebrow.
“You’re staring.”
His ears turn red. “Sorry. They look really soft.”
You bite back a smile. “Do you… wanna touch them?”
His whole brain malfunctions. “I— what? No— I mean yes— I mean— only if it’s not weird—”
You laugh and lean closer. “Go ahead.”
He gently touches one curl, brushing it with the tip of his finger like it might dissolve. “Whoa,” he whispers. “It feels like a cloud.”
Your chest does something embarrassing.
He pulls away, flustered.
“It wasn’t weird,” you tell him softly.
After that, it becomes normal him walking with you, asking questions, smiling like you’re the best part of his day. Small touches. Soft glances. Sunsets that feel warmer because he’s standing next to you. Seonghyeon becomes a habit without either of you trying, and habits are dangerous.
He tells you he has to leave only when the day comes. There’s no “maybe later.” No slow fade-out. Just a suitcase, an airport, and a goodbye he doesn’t know how to say.
At the terminal, he hugs you like he’s memorizing the way you feel. “I’ll call,” he says quietly. “I mean it. I don’t want this to be over.”
You clutch the back of his shirt. “Then don’t let it be.”
His eyes soften, the kind of soft that hurts. “Don’t forget me, okay?”
You swallow. “I couldn’t if I tried.”
He smiles a sad, warm, fragile thing and then he walks away. It’s only when he disappears into the crowd that you let yourself cry.
He calls. A lot. At first every couple days, then every night, then multiple times a night. Voice notes, grainy selfies of him in practice clothes, little updates about ramen and dance practice and the weather outside the dorm. And he sends songs little clips of melodies he’s writing and he always says they’re “nothing special,” but you know they’re for you.
You send him pictures of LA sunsets, selfies when your curls are fresh, voice notes when you’re laughing. He melts each time.
He tries to keep you a secret.
He absolutely fails.
His members catch him smiling at his phone so much they don’t even need to ask. They call you “curl girl” before they even know your name.
He denies everything. He’s terrible at denying everything.
Then life shifts. You apply to an international school in Seoul on a whim. You don’t expect to get in. But you do. And when you tell Seonghyeon during a late-night call, he drops his phone.
“You’re WHAT?”
“I got accepted. I’m moving to Seoul.”
He chokes. “HERE? To— HERE?!”
“Yes,” you laugh. “Here.”
He doesn’t sleep that night.
You don’t expect him to show up at the airport when you land. You especially don’t expect him to sprint toward you like he’s in a drama. He crashes into you, arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you lose your breath.
“You’re real,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your shoulder.
“So are you,” you whisper back.
He pulls away, scanning your face, your curls, your expression like he’s checking if you changed. “You’re even prettier in person. Again.”
Before you can answer—
“BRO JUST KISS ALREADY!”
You jump. He jumps harder. His members are standing a few feet away, watching like it’s a movie they bought front-row tickets to.
The dorm is chaotic in the best way. They ask you a million questions.
“So YOU’RE the curls!”
“He talks about you EVERY day.”
“He tried to write a song but refused to admit it was about you—”
“SHUT UP!” Seonghyon yells, turning tomato-red.
You end up on the couch beside him. Close. Too close. Your curls brush his shoulder and he goes still. You see it in his eyes — the muscle memory kicking in.
Then it happens.
His fingers reach into yor curls, slow and natural, twisting one around his finger like he’s done it a thousand times. Like he never stopped. Like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
The room freezes.
And then..
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
Four phones.
Four angles.
Four idiots grinning.
“BRO WE CAUGHT HIM.”
“This is going in the group chat FOREVER.”
“Look at him — he’s in LOVE.”
"IN A PUBLIC SEVER??"
Seonghyeon covers his face. “Delete it. Delete ALL of it.”
You laugh so hard your stomach hurts. You gently pull his hands away. “You didn’t have to stop.”
He swallows, eyes softening entirely. “I missed you,” he says quietly. “More than I ever said.”
Your heart squeezes. “I missed you too.”
He leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours. “Can I—?”
“IF YOU KISS IN FRONT OF US I’M LEAVING!” Martin yells across the room
You and Seonghyeon both break into laughter. He settles for resting his head on your shoulder, fingers sliding back into your curls like they belong there.
“You’re home now,” he whispers.
And for the first time in a long time you believe it.
After the fight, the silence between you and Keonho hangs heavier than the argument itself. A whole day passes with no real words exchanged, both of you pretending nothing happened but feeling everything. When Keonho finally comes home, the tension snaps but beneath it is the want, the fear, and the soft love that neither of you can shut off. This time, you don’t walk away… and he doesn’t let you.
⌦ includes :
tense atmosphere • soft crying • tender apology • emotional honesty • clingy!keonho • gentle make up • forehead kisses • lingering insecurity • they choose each other
The day after the argument felt like walking around with a bruise no one could see.
You moved through the apartment quietly, doing everything you could to avoid thinking about last night but it stuck to your ribs, tight and unmoving. Every time your phone buzzed, you almost hopd it was him… even though he was probably just as tired, just as unsure.
He didn’t text.
He didn't call.
Just absence and whatever you were supposed to do with it.
By the time he came home that evening, the sky already dark, you were sitting on the couch pretending to scroll through something you weren’t even reading.
The door clicked shut behind him.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, taking off his shoes too slowly, like he was scared to step any closer.
“Y/n…” His voice was soft. Hesitant. “Can we talk?”
You didn’t look up right away. “If you want.”
He walked closer, stopping a few feet away. You could feel him watching you, like he was trying to read whether you still cared or if last night truly broke something.
“I hated how we left things,” he said quietly.
“I hated what I said.”
That made your breath hitch, just a little.
“You hurt me,” you said honestly, still staring at your hands.
“I know.”
He sounded wrecked.
“And I hated myself the second the words came out. I didn’t mean any of it. I swear I didn’t.”
You finally looked up and the moment your eyes met, his shoulders dropped like he’d been holding his breath all day.
“I should’ve been there,” he said. “For the date. For you. I should’ve texted. I should’ve… tried. But I didn’t. And you had every right to be mad.”
You didn’t say anything yet.
You didn’t have to the redness in your eyes said enough.
Keonho stepped closer, slow like he was afraid you’d pull away.
“Can I sit with you?” he whispered.
You nodded once.
He sat beside you, knees brushing, but he didn’t touch you. Not until you leaned the tiniest bit in his direction and then he reached out immediately, gently, like his hands remembered you before his mind did.
His fingers laced with yours.
“I was scared,” he admitted. “Not of the fight of losing you. I know I disappear sometimes. I know it’s unfair. But I don't want you to feel alone because of me.”
Your throat tightened. “I didn’t want you to lose me either. I just… want you to show up. Even a little.”
He nodded quickly. “I will. I’ll do better. Not perfect, but better. I promise.”
The room went quiet.
Not tense just full.
Then he shifted closer and rested his forehead against yours, breath warm and uneven.
“Please don’t stop loving me like this,” he whispered, voice trembling a little. “I don’t want to go to sleep again without knowing we’re okay.”
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie.
“I’m still hurt,” you admitted. “But I want us to be okay.”
His lips brushed your forehead, soft and slow — the kind of kiss that felt like an apology all on its own.
“Then we’re okay,” he murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
You finally leaned into him fully, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped tight around you. He held you like he’d been waiting all day to breathe, his cheek pressed to your hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I love you more than schedules and stages and everything else. I’m here.”
And for the first time since last night, the heaviness in your chest finally loosened.
You weren’t fine.
You weren’t perfect.
But you were together and that was enough.
This is the end of this mini series!! Any req I would love too do!!
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
dededos
origamiaround
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
