🧸 𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗅 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

tumblr girl⋆˚ 💭 🎧🧺🍦🧸| gojo freak!

[leelssolstice]

—i’m not cute anymore!

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

𐙚🧸ྀི 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𐔌˙. 4𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 — 𝗌𝗁𝖾／𝗁𝖾𝗋 .ᐟ 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝖻𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋 ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

────୨ৎ────

𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 >ᴗ<

⇄ ◁◁ I I ▷▷ ↻

⁰⁰ ²⁵ ━━●━━━━━━━━ ⁰² ⁰⁸

[purrtoru]

husband!satoru gets a little too possessive of you on your beach vacation. . .

the beach had been your idea.

you wanted a relaxing day together— sunshine, fresh air, finally swimming in the cold ocean water. somehow, though, the moment you’d stepped out of the changing room wearing your bikini, the entire plan had fallen apart.

or rather, satoru had.

you barely make it to your spot on the sand you’ve been eyeing before he plants himself directly in front of your beach chair.

at first, you think nothing of it. he’s always clingy, always finding excuses to stay close. but after several minutes pass and he still hasn’t moved, you start narrowing your eyes.

“what are you doing?” you ask.

“hm?”

“why are you standing there?”

he shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “just hanging out.”

“well, hang out without blocking my view!”

“don’t wanna.”

you look at him expectantly, thinking he’ll finally move, but he just smiles innocently behind his sunglasses.

seems that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

every time you try adjusting your chair, he somehow adjusts his positioning too. every time you glance toward the water, his massive frame ends up between you and the rest of the beach.

it turns ridiculous enough that you finally sit up and cross your arms.

“okay. what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing’s wrong.”

“satoru.”

he lets out a dramatic sigh before lowering himself onto the edge of your beach chair. his arm immediately wraps around your waist, pulling you closer against his side.

“you look too good.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what..?”

“you heard me.”

his jaw tightens slightly as his gaze drifts away, and toward the crowded shoreline. there are people everywhere, couples, groups of friends. just doing completely normal beach activity.

satoru, however, looks threatened by all of it.

“i was excited to bring you here,” he admits. “thought it’d be nice.”

“and?”

“and then you walked out wearing that.”

you let out a laugh. “it’s just a bikini..?

“i know.”

“that’s what most women wear at beach, no?”

“mhm,” he pouts, and his expression remains the same.

normally, satoru loves showing you off. he’ll throw an arm around your shoulder in public, kiss your cheek randomly, introduce you as his wife every chance he gets. he’s never been subtle about how proud he is to have you.

apparently, though, this situation has created some kind of internal conflict.

because on one hand, he clearly wants everyone to know just how pretty his wife is. on the other hand, he seems seconds away from carrying you back inside the hotel and locking every door.

“you’re jealous of.. strangers?”

“’m not jealous.”

his arm tightens around your waist as another group of people walks by. none of them are paying attention to either of you, but satoru tracks them anyway before immediately shifting closer.

you can practically feel the possessiveness radiating off him.

“you know,” you say, smiling, “if you’re that bothered, maybe you stop staring.”

he looks at you like you’ve said something absurd.

“how am i supposed to stop staring?”

he reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“seriously…” his voice softens. “i can’t.”

the warmth of the sun, the sound of the waves, the distant chatter around you— it all fades into the background beneath the way he’s looking at you.

like you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

then his gaze flickers past you again, and his eyes narrow. “that guy looked over here.”

“toru!” you groan immediately. “you don’t even know if he was looking at me.”

before you can argue further, he stands up, grabs the beach umbrella beside your chair, and drags it several feet across the sand.

directly in front of you, and blocking your view of half the beach.

your mouth falls open. “okay. enough!”

“what?” he says innocently.

“move it.”

“nuh-uh.”

he squeezes back onto your chair, completely satisfied with himself as he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“now nobody can look.”

“seriously..?”

“as serious as can be,” he says, pulling you closer, then moving you onto his lap, “i feel way better.”

you bury your face in his shoulder to hide your giggles, and he takes the opportunity to press his lips against the top of your head.

after all, he still got exactly what he wants.

a beautiful beach, a sunny day..

and his wife all to himself.

wrote this after getting home from my beach trip >:) ugh i miss it already what is this unbearable heat rn..

[multifandomtoesucker2026]

“you didn’t have to wait for me.”

cortis - seonghyeon x fem!reader

GENRE: soft romance, comfort, domestic vibes

WARNINGS: fatigue, reader waiting alone, mentions of worry, gentle scolding.

SYNOPSIS: You wait for him after a long practice, sitting on the floor with your head against the wall. When he finds you half-asleep, his voice softens instantly. Annoyed on the surface, but secretly touched that you stayed just for him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: wrote this cs i imagined it and i just KNOW he’d pretend he’s scolding you but he’d be smiling the whole time. ENJOYY

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Characters are based on public personas only. Nothing here reflects real-life relationships or behavior. Please do not repost, translate, or copy my work to other platforms. Reblogs & comments are appreciated but never required!.

MASTERLIST | taglist

You didn’t mean to fall asleep.

You were just tired. You had a long day, and the hallway outside the practice room was warm enough that sitting down “for a minute” turned into your head resting against the wall and your eyes drifting shut.

you wake up when the door cliks open.

you hear slow footsteps get louder as the person walking approaches you.

“...Y/N?”

his voice is soft, almost confused.

you blink awake, lifting your head. Seonghyeon stands in front of you, hair damp from practice, hoodie half-zipped, breathing still a little uneven. He looks exhausted.

And then he looks at you.

his expression changes immediately, the tiredness replaced by something else.

“You’re still here?” he asks quietly.

you nod, rubbing your eyes. “I wanted to wait for you.”

he exhales, seeming annoyed

“you didn’t have to wait for me,” he says, crouching down in front of you. His tone is soft, but he tries to make it sound like he’s scolding you. "you should’ve gone home.”

You shrug. “I didn’t want to.”

He looks away for a second, jaw tightening, not in frustration, but because he’s trying not to smile.

“you’re unbelievable,” he mutters, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “you’re tired. You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor like this.”

You laugh a little. “You’re tired too.”

He sighs, giving up the act. His hand slides to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly under your eye.

“I should've finished earlier,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, and he finally lets the softness show. He sits beside you, pulling you gently into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

His arm wraps around you, warm and protective.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “text me. I’ll come out faster.”

You close your eyes again. “Okay.”

He leans his head against yours, breathing slowing, body relaxing for the first time all day.

“But…” he adds quietly, “thank you. For waiting.”

You feel his lips press to the top of your head.

He’s still pretending to scold you. But he’s smiling the whole time.

tagged - @faayzeswords, @coconhovr, @leosdigitalarchives, @noordinaryloovee, @hiiiiiiiomomoko, @lovelovingyou, @bakapd003, @moontmoochi, @simplyangelixa, @lazuliixx, @evaflms, @taeyongsfriedhair, @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @bakapd003, @fawnyboibeauty | thank uuu for readingg!

dividers by - @strangergraphics

[aerisyl]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. WHY ⭑ KIM JUHOON

ᝰ.ᐟ synopsis text messages with your situationship, juhoon.

juhoon x fem!reader , ss: 22 , face claim: marquise aura 😍

i haven’t been in a situationship in like yrsss (thankfully 🌚🌚🌚) but i tried 🤩🤩

currently playing - why by shawn mendes

guys does it give situationship gone… right 🌚

@lovhyeon , @cloudedteacups , @bananagirl222

[rottenw1nter]

━━━━ DEFEATED BY SHIMMER

martin edwards x fem!reader | drabble | mention of martin’s trainee days | fluff | established relationship

masterlist

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

the afternoon sun streamed warmly through your bedroom window, illuminating the array of eyeshadow palettes, sponges, and brushes scattered across your desk. martin was sitting on your vanity stool, his long legs uncomfortably bent to fit under the small table, looking like an oversized canvas entirely at your mercy.

you swirled a fluffy blending brush into a neutral shade, tapping off the excess powder before leaning in close. "okay, look straight ahead and try to keep your eyes still."

the moment the soft bristles made contact with his eyelid, martin flinched, a burst of laughter escaping him as he squeezed his eyes shut. "oh my god, wait, stop! it tickles so much, yn, i’m not even kidding."

"martin, i barely even touched you," you complained, holding his chin gently to steady his face. "open your eyes. i’m just trying to blend it."

"i am trying! but it feels like a tiny feather is attacking my face," he insisted, his lips immediately curling back into a wide grin as he started talking at a hundred miles an hour pace. "you know, this actually reminds me of that one time during my trainee days when a stylist tried to put eyeliner on me for the first time and i accidentally blinked so hard the pencil ended up on my nose. did i ever tell you about that? anyway, she looked like she wanted to ban me from the salon forever, which is fair honestly because i really cannot—ah!"

you pressed the pads of your fingers against his cheek, leaning in even closer until your faces were only inches apart. "martin, please. if you keep moving your mouth, i am going to accidentally give you a black eye with this brush. sit still and be quiet for five minutes so i can actually finish the look."

he blinked up at you, his mouth snapping shut mid sentence. he gave you a dramatic, exaggerated nod, locking his lips together as if he were throwing away the key.

"thank you," you murmured, adjusting your grip on his jaw and leaning back in to carefully sweep the color along his crease.

for the next few minutes, the bedroom fell into a surprising, unfamiliar silence. the only sound was the soft rustle of the trees outside and the rhythmic patting of the makeup sponge as you transitioned to a bit of highlighter on his cheekbones. it was honestly a miracle, martin never stopped talking. he was the type of person who filled every empty space with words, jokes, or random stories. to have him completely silent for this long felt like a historic achievement.

you dipped a smaller brush into a shimmer shade, intending to add a tiny pop of light to the inner corners of his eyes. "okay, look at me."

martin followed the instruction instantly.

as you leaned in close enough to feel his warm breath against your skin, your eyes naturally met his. you expected to see him making a funny face, or holding his breath to be dramatic, but instead, you froze.

martin was staring right at you. his hazel eyes were incredibly soft, completely focused on your face with an intensity that made your own heart skip a beat. but the most surprising part was his face, a deep, prominent blush had climbed up from his neck, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears a bright, undeniable crimson. he looked completely caught, his usual confident exterior melting away into pure, helpless shyness.

you paused, the brush hovering right between you, before a soft, affectionate laugh bubbled up from your chest.

"are you blushing?" you teased gently, your thumb brushing over his warm cheekbone. "the great martin edwards, completely defeated by a little bit of makeup?"

martin’s lips twitched, his mouth opening as if he wanted to defend himself, but the flush on his face only deepened. he let out a quiet, defeated chuckle, looking down for a split second before meeting your gaze again, his eyes full of fond, quiet warmth. "shut up," he whispered softly, a helpless smile breaking through. "just finish the makeup."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

perm taglist. @sese-blurbs @atdeerhunter @one-chance-pls @hyeonverse @larusi

© rottenw1nter

[adorhees]

BETWEEN YOU AND I martin edwards park

summary. martin can’t help but blurt out a confession while admiring you

content. pure fluff, established relationship, teenage love

the sun was already dipping low through your bedroom window, painting streaks of orange and pink across your flashcards. you’d been going over biology for what felt like forever, your brain all fuzzy with cell structures and enzyme reactions that just wouldn’t stick.

“wait no! so if the ph changes, does the active site change shape before it binds or after?” you asked, pushing your glasses up your nose and leaning your chin on your hand.

martin was sitting cross-legged on your bed opposite you, his own notebook open on his knees. he’d showed up right after school with a bag of your favourite chocolates and a bottle of lemonade, saying he knew you were stressing about the exams next week and he’d gone over all this stuff already so he might as well help. that was five months ago today, actually; you’d started dating back in february, when he’d accidentally spilled hot chocolate all over your jumper and then spent the next three days trying to make it up to you until you finally just kissed him behind the gym.

“before, yeah,” he said softly, tapping the diagram in your book with his pencil. “like… it just don’t fit no more. imagine if your favourite hoodie shrank in the wash. you still try and put it on but it just won’t go right, y’know?”

you snorted. “you mean your favourite hoodie that you keep leaving at mine and then steal back when it’s cold?”

“hey, it looks better on me anyway,” he grinned, but his voice went all gentle again when he looked at you. “c’mon, one more go. what’s the difference between mitosis and meiosis?”

you rambled through it, counting off on your fingers, explaining how one made identical cells and the other made the ones for babies, how many divisions there were, all the stuff you’d memorised but kept mixing up. and as you talked, about chromosomes and genetic variation and how stupid it was that they made you remember all this when you just wanted to draw or watch films or sit on the park wall and share chips; martin was just watching you.

he’d been listening, obviously, nodding along and correcting you quiet when you got something wrong, but halfway through your sentence something just… clicked in his head. like all the pieces he hadn’t even noticed were there suddenly fitting together perfectly.

he looked at the way your hands moved when you talked, all wiggly and expressive. the tiny little scratch on your jaw from when you’d tripped over your cat yesterday. how your socks didn’t match, one was bright blue, the other had little ducks on it. how you kept pushing your hair out your eyes every few seconds and how your cheeks were all pink from the warm evening. how even when you were rambling about things you found boring, your voice sounded like the best thing he’d ever heard. how safe he felt here, in your messy bedroom with your posters on the wall and your clothes piled on the chair and the faint smell of your cherry candle in the air.

oh. oh wow.

he wasn’t just into you. he wasn’t just happy dating you. he was in love with you.

the thought hit him so hard he actually forgot to breathe for a second. his pencil slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the duvet.

you stopped talking mid-sentence, blinking at him. “what? did i get that wrong again? sorry, i swear i’m trying—”

“no,” he said, and his voice came out all wobblier than he meant it to. “no you got it right. perfectly right. i just….”

he stared at you, his heart hammering so loud he was sure you could hear it. he’d never felt like this about anyone before. not even close. everything about you just felt like home. like he’d been looking for this feeling his whole life and didn’t even know it.

“martin?” you leaned forward a little, frowning soft, reaching out to touch his knee. “you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost or somethin’.”

“i love you.”

it just tumbled out. no planning, no building up to it, no cool smooth line he’d practiced in the mirror. just three little words, all breathless and shaky and completely true.

your hand froze on his knee. your eyes went all wide. “wait… what?”

“i love you,” he said again, louder this time, like saying it more would make it real. his cheeks were burning bright red but he didn’t look away. “i was just sat here watching you talk about cells and stuff and it just hit me. like properly hit me. i’m so in love with you. like… so much it’s actually stupid. i didn’t mean to say it like that, not all sudden, but i couldn’t not say it. y’know?”

you just stared at him for a long moment, your mouth falling open a little, and then suddenly your eyes went all shiny and happy and you launched yourself across the bed at him.

he laughed, catching you easily, wrapping his arms tight around your waist as you half fell half sat in his lap.

“you dork,” you mumbled into his neck, but you were grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “i love you too. obviously i love you too. i’ve been waiting for you to say it first ‘cause i didn’t wanna be too much or whatever.”

“too much?” he pulled back just enough to look at your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “you could never be too much. you’re perfect. literally perfect. even when you’re stressing about exams or singing off-key in the shower or stealing my food.”

you giggled, cupping his face in your hands and leaning in until your foreheads touched. “you’re such a sap. i love you so bad it’s actually ridiculous.”

he kissed you then, slow and soft and warm, like he was trying to put every single thing he felt into it. you kissed him back just as soft, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and when you pulled away he chased your lips for another quick peck, then another, then a third one that made you laugh.

“so…” you said, resting your head on his shoulder and winding your fingers through his. “does this mean i get a reward for getting mitosis right?”

“oh yeah?” he grinned, squeezing your hand. “what kinda reward?”

“more kisses. and you have to let me pick the film tonight.”

“deal,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “all the kisses you want, baby. we can even watch that terrible animated cat film you love if you want.”

“you’re the best…. but not too much on garfield.” you squinted your eyes at him while leaning up to kiss his cheek. “wait, wait, five months today, actually. since we started dating.”

“it is?” he thought for a second, then smiled. “huh. nice timing then, right?”

“the best timing,” you agreed.

you stayed like that for ages, curled up together on the bed, the biology notes forgotten somewhere off to the side. he kissed you slow and sweet, over and over, and every time he pulled away you’d tell him you loved him again just to watch him light up. eventually you shifted so you were lying side by side, his arm slung over your waist, your head tucked under his chin, and you talked about everything and nothing; about the exams, about your friends, about what you wanted to do in the summer, about how you’d both been so nervous to say those three words even though they’d been there for weeks.

“i thought i’d mess it up,” he admitted quietly, tracing patterns on your arm with his finger. “like… what if you didn’t feel the same? what if it was too soon? i was lowkey stressing a little bit”

“it’s not too soon,” you said, pressing a kiss to his chest right over his heart. “it feels exactly right. and i’ve felt this way for ages. i just didn’t know how to say it. like… how do you even explain that someone makes you feel like your heart is about to explode out of your chest?”

“i dunno,” he said, kissing your hair. “but you do it for me too.”

later, when it got dark, you ordered pizza and put on that silly cat film, sharing the last of the chocolates between you. every few minutes he’d look over at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real, and then he’d lean over to kiss you; your cheek, your hand, your lips, and say “i love you” again, just because he could.

and when he walked you to the door after, when he had to head home before it got too late, he pulled you close and kissed you slow in the porch light, your hands tangled in his hoodie strings, his cold nose brushing against yours.

“don’t worry about the exams,” he murmured against your lips. “you’re gonna smash them. and even if you don’t… i’ll still be here. i’ll still love you just as much.”

“i know,” you said, smiling up at him. “i love you too. more than anything.”

💌 aya’s note. smth short n sweet :P i kinda wanna start writing football fics #confession + yes i deleted the james fic because it was sooooo bad and this is kinda not proofread so mbbbb

[hyuneskkami]

:ঌ FATE ⭑ K.JH ㅗ ໒:

📬 ❤︎ juhoon 𝔁 f!reader ─── ৻ꪆ a girl tracing forgotten constellations across her skin, a boy who had spent an entire lifetime learning the map of them by heart, and a quiet, patient fate that brings them together in every lifetime.

❤︎ warnings+tags ─── ৻ꪆ non-idol au · kisses · past life kisses turn into present life moles theory · hinting at soulmatism

💌 ❤︎ notes ─── ৻ꪆ dedicated to my lovely @jjuhyeons (congratulations on your job ml <33) and @kaikaikoi (congratulations for surviving all your exams <33) for no specific reason i love you both and you’re my fav jju girlies 🩷 · i love soulmatism theories sm give me more ideas to write for the other members too plsplspls

❤︎ wc ─── ৻ꪆ 2.4k

𝄞 𓏸 my cortispilledmasterlist »﹙合﹚

❝ tracklist ❞  ─── fate—enhypen ❦ light—wave to earth ❦ k.—cas ❦ may you never forget me—temachii ❦ glue song—beabadoobee ❦ love, older you—illit

everyone knew the story—one of those ancient, enduring legends passed down in half-whispered conversations between grandparents and grandchildren, scribbled into the margins of notebooks, or shared between friends during sleepless nights when the world felt a little softer than usual. 

your moles, they said, mark all the places your lover kissed you in your past life. 

most people laughed it off, some secretly checked, while others spent an embarrassing amount of time standing in front of mirrors, trying to convince themselves that a tiny mark on their wrist or shoulder meant something profound.

you had never really believed it, mostly because if the legend were true, then your past lover had apparently been completely, utterly obsessed with you. there was simply no other explanation; you had moles everywhere—one near your collarbone, three scattered across your neck, one hidden behind your left ear, and another buried right beneath your hairline. there were several across your hands, one on your ankle, two on your feet, one tucked beneath your jaw, and another near your shoulder blade, with new ones seeming to bloom like constellations across your skin every time you actually looked closely enough.

it was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, especially considering the fact that in this life, you were currently painfully, catastrophically, embarrassingly single. 

but on the worst nights, when the quiet of your bedroom felt entirely too vast, you would trace those tiny dark spots with a fingertip, wondering how a love so fierce it had literally stained your skin could leave you feeling this hollow, like a ghost ship still searching for a shore that no longer existed. you would press your thumb against the mark on your wrist, aching for the echo of a warmth you could no longer remember, trapped in the agonizing space between a past you couldn’t reach and a present where you were entirely alone.

“there’s no way,” your friend had once said whilst counting them, her finger tapping a slow rhythm against your skin. “either the legend is fake or somebody in your past life genuinely couldn’t keep their hands off you.”

you had nearly choked on your drink, coughing out a frantic, “please never say that sentence to me again,” but the words had already taken root, burying themselves deep beneath your collarbone where they refused to quiet down.

yet sometimes, usually late at night when the house was quiet and the world felt suspended between dreams and reality, you found yourself tracing those tiny marks with a slow, deliberate touch. you would wonder—who could have loved someone so completely, wondering if they had existed at all, or if they were just a cruel myth left behind to mock your empty hands. you wondered if, somewhere across lifetimes and centuries and endless stretches of time, someone had once looked at you as though you were the most precious thing they had ever known, leaving you now like an anchorless boat drifting in an ocean of silence, desperately reaching for the ghost of a pull you could no longer see.

☆

a very long time ago, in a life neither of you remembered anymore, there had been a boy named juhoon, and he had loved you with a tenderness that made entire lifetimes feel entirely too short. it was never loud, never dramatic, never the sort of love that demanded an audience.

it lived in the quietest, smallest things—in the way he always reached for your hand first, in the way he remembered every minor detail you forgot, and in the way his eyes softened whenever they landed on you, as though seeing you alone was enough to make his day better. and perhaps that was why he kissed you so often, because every time he looked at you, affection seemed to overflow from him like a river bursting its banks until it simply had nowhere else to go.

“you know,” he mumbled one evening as you sat together beneath the golden glow of lantern light, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder, “i don’t think i’ll ever stop being amazed that you’re real.”

you laughed softly, shifting against him. “i’m sitting right here.”

“exactly.” his smile appeared against your temple before he pressed the gentlest kiss there, just beneath your hairline, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “see?” 

“that proves nothing.” 

“it proves everything.” 

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed all the same, and juhoon seemed utterly delighted by this—he always was. 

he tilted his head slightly before pressing another kiss behind your ear. “there.” 

“juhoon.” 

“just appreciating my favourite person.” 

“you say that every day.” 

“because it’s true every day.”

his voice held such effortless certainty that it made your chest ache, as though loving you was the easiest thing he had ever done, as though it had never once occurred to him to do anything else. it was a love so heavy it was like a physical weight, anchoring you both to a moment that felt entirely disconnected from the rest of the world.

there were countless moments like that, lazy mornings when sunlight spilled through open windows like melted honey and he would take your hand simply because he wanted to, lifting your fingers to his lips to press absent-minded kisses against your knuckles whilst listening to you talk about absolutely nothing important.

“what are you doing?” you would ask, your voice heavy with sleep. 

“thinking,” he would murmur against your skin. 

“about?” 

“how nice it is that i get to hold your hand.” 

“that’s not thinking.” 

“it is for me.” another kiss, another smile, another tiny moment that seemed completely insignificant at the time, yet somehow lasted forever, weaving itself so deeply into the fabric of your soul that even the passage of centuries couldn’t entirely wash the ink of him away.

sometimes he would find you reading, curled up somewhere comfortable and entirely absorbed in another world, and rather than interrupting, he would simply settle beside you close enough that your shoulders touched—close enough that he could quietly admire you while pretending not to. 

eventually you would notice, pulling your eyes from the page to catch him in the act. “why are you staring?” you’d ask, trying to sound annoyed. 

“i wasn’t.” 

“you absolutely were.” 

“can you prove it?” 

“...no.” 

“then i’m innocent.”

before you could argue further, he would lean forward and kiss your cheek—soft, warm, unhurried, the sort of kiss that existed purely because he had wanted to give it, like a habit he had no desire to break. it was a quiet devotion that asked for nothing in return, settling over you like a familiar blanket, leaving you completely defenceless against the steady, rhythmic pull of his warmth.

once, during a long evening, your feet had begun to ache from sitting in an uncomfortable position for far too long while you watched television together. you had complained exactly once—a tiny, half-muttered sigh between scenes of whatever predictable rom-com was playing on the screen, but that was all it took.

juhoon immediately insisted on shifting, pulling your legs across his lap despite your protests, and despite your insistence that you were perfectly fine. he knelt over them slightly anyway, his fingers carefully kneading the tension from your arches whilst you tried to focus on the dialogue. 

“you’re impossible,” you informed him, staring down at him in the dim, flickering light of the tv. 

“and yet you adore me.” 

“unfortunately.” 

“there it is.” he grinned, then, after making certain you were looking right at him, he leaned down and pressed a tiny, deliberate kiss against the side of your foot, just enough to make you stare at him in absolute disbelief. 

“juhoon.” 

“what?” 

“that was ridiculous.” 

“you smiled.” 

you hated that he was right, the warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, making it completely impossible to care about the movie anymore.

years passed, seasons changed, and the world continued its endless, indifferent turning, yet some things never altered. 

juhoon still reached for your hand first, still looked for you before anyone else in crowded rooms, and still smiled the exact same way whenever he heard your voice across a hallway. he still kissed your forehead when you were tired, your shoulder when you were sad, your hands when you were nervous, and the side of your neck when he thought you were beautiful—which, unfortunately for your dignity, seemed to be quite often.

“you know,” he whispered one evening as you rested together beneath a sky overflowing with stars, the darkness stretching out around you like a velvet canvas, “if there are other lives after this one, i hope i find you again.” 

your fingers tightened around his, a sudden, sharp ache blooming in your chest. “and if you don’t?” 

his expression softened, softer than moonlight, softer than anything you had ever known before. “then i'll spend every lifetime looking.” he leaned forward, pressing one final kiss against the place beneath your jaw—gentle, careful, full of every ounce of love he possessed, as though he wanted the feeling to remain there forever, as though some part of him knew it would, tattooing his devotion directly into your skin.

☆

centuries later, in another life entirely, you stood in front of your mirror, your fingertips brushing absent-mindedly over a mole near your neck, then one behind your ear, then another on your hand—small marks scattered across your skin like forgotten memories. you still didn’t believe the legend, not really, and yet for the briefest moment, an unfamiliar warmth settled in your chest, like the echo of a voice you couldn’t quite remember, like a promise spoken beneath starlight, or like someone, somewhere, loving you so fiercely that even time itself had failed to erase the evidence. and though neither of you remembered it now, there had once been a boy who had spent an entire lifetime proving exactly that.

the thing about fate, if it existed at all, was that it had an irritating sense of humour, because if soulmates were real, if past lives were real, if all those ridiculous stories about destined lovers and threads of fate and eternal connections were real, then surely the universe would arrange something a little more cinematic than this. surely there would be rain, or dramatic music, or a sudden rush of recognition, or at the very least some sort of celestial sign that screamed, pay attention, this is important. instead, you were carrying three iced coffees and a paper bag of pastries whilst attempting to answer a text message at the same time, which was exactly why you walked directly into somebody.

“oh my god,” the words escaped you immediately as coffee sloshed dangerously, the other person stumbling backwards as you nearly dropped everything. for one horrifying second, it seemed as though all three drinks were about to launch themselves directly onto the pavement, but somehow, miraculously, they survived. you looked up, the stranger staring at you with the same expression of startled panic.

“i’m so sorry,” he said immediately, “that was entirely my fault.”

“no, it wasn’t—”

“it definitely was.”

“i was looking at my phone.”

“and i was looking over my shoulder.”

you paused, and did he, before a soft laugh escaped him—unexpectedly bright, unexpectedly warm, and for some reason, the sound settled somewhere strange inside your chest like a coin dropping into a deep, forgotten well. 

“then perhaps we’re both idiots,” you muttered.

“that seems fair.” he grinned.

“good, i’m glad we've reached a mutual agreement,” you nodded, but for some reason, neither of you immediately left. it was odd, considering normally these sorts of interactions ended after thirty seconds of an apology and a polite smile before everyone moved on, yet here you both remained, standing in the middle of a crowded pavement having apparently forgotten how normal social interactions worked.

“did any of the drinks survive?” he asked eventually, and you glanced down at the completely intact cups.

“a miracle.”

“thank god.”

“seriously, if i’d lost these, my friends would’ve killed me.”

“that sounds slightly threatening.”

“you haven’t met them.” 

his laughter appeared again, and there it was—that strange feeling, like something deep inside you quietly straightening itself, like a puzzle piece shifting, or like recognising a melody without knowing where you’d heard it before. you ignored it, mostly because it was ridiculous; the man in front of you was a complete stranger—a very attractive stranger, unfortunately, but still a stranger.

“well,” you said, adjusting the paper bag beneath your arm, “i should probably let you continue whatever important business led to this near-fatal coffee incident.” 

“probably,” he replied, yet neither of you moved. you tried not to notice, and he seemed to be trying not to notice too, which somehow made it worse. 

“right.” 

“right.” 

silence stretched between you, a fragile thing.

“actually,” the word left his mouth at exactly the same moment you said “well—”. you both stopped, then laughed again.

“you first,” he said.

you shook your head, “no, you.” 

“i insist.” 

you rolled your eyes, “fine, i was going to say that since neither of us died, we should probably know the name of the person responsible.”

his smile widened, and for some reason, seeing it felt strangely familiar, like coming home after a very long trip. “that’s reasonable,” he said, offering his hand. you looked down at it, then back up at him, before taking it—warm fingers, a steady grip, and something about it made your heart skip just once, just enough to notice.

“i’m yn.”

for the briefest second, something flickered across his face—gone almost immediately, too quick to identify or understand—and then he smiled again, gentler this time, softer, like hearing a favourite song unexpectedly. 

“juhoon.”

the world did not stop turning, the sky did not split open, and nothing dramatic happened; people continued walking past, cars continued driving, and somewhere nearby, somebody dropped a shopping bag. everything remained exactly the same, except for the strange feeling that settled quietly between your ribs, except for the way his name seemed to linger in your mind like a line of poetry, and except for the way he looked at you for a second too long.

“well,” you said eventually. 

“well,” he echoed, and neither of you let go of the handshake immediately, which was probably normal—or maybe it wasn’t, but you honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

somewhere above you, hidden behind clouds and years and forgotten memories, fate smiled to itself, because after spending lifetimes searching through the dark, juhoon had finally found you again; he just didn’t know it yet, and neither did you.

© hyuneskkami ❦

[yuesning]

DAYDREAMS OF YOU ───── martin edwards 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

SYNOPSIS regardless of your insecurities, he will always find you as the perfect girl he knows.

REQUESTED 𐙚˚ 08' martin x f!reader established relationship insecure reader comparing stress thinking comfort fluff drabble?

@ NESS i decided to just make this a drabble / written fic anon because i've been feeling philosophical these days (wow you're so cool) i hope that's fine w you:( tho the ending feels a bit rushed i'm sorry.. also why do i use the em-dash in like every paragraph

SIDE NOTE insecurities are normal - atleast every human in this world has an insecurity; big or small. but please don't let it shadow over you. as someone who grew up with insecurities, we all realize our worth over time and notice how much insecurities effect us & how much of a dumb myth it all seems. we're all beautiful in our own way, were all worth it. we're not born to be perfect, but we all have our own beauty within ourselves.

YOU WERENT BIG ON INSECURITIES, but of course there were times where you didnt feel like yourself — you felt off, stressed, too different to manage and to make matters worse, you kept it all hidden, all secretive to yourself.

you didn't want to make others worried for your own insecurities or any stress feelings that were put against you. you always thought of it as a myth, just like it was a silly idea that would go away within its own.

but what you didn't realize is that keeping it away from others, made it pile and pile up as time went on. the idea of it went away, but the true feeling never did.

you told yourself you looked good in different styles, colors, and types of clothing. you knew you did - everyone thought so as well. you were complimented on a basis, for many things; physically and personality wise.

but you never thought the day would come, where it would all crumble — all in front of your lover, the person you kept it hidden from for the longest time, the person who complimented you and made it known that–to him, you were the most beautiful person he ever laid his eyes on, making his love an effort to you.

you thought it would be considered stupid to admit to all the rigid feelings to him. his love, his compliments were supposed to help you — help you be seen as a person, a girl, his girlfriend. but deep down, you felt the appeal he made towards you, but it just gained your insecurities a second chance in winning.

it's not like you were wearing something out of the ordinary; it was just a simple denim skirt alongside with a basic top, suitable for the weather.

but you were also just a girl who loved looking at other girls and their beauty. some become envious of their beauty while others form interest in them.

you weren't hatred to the others around you, you'd never compare yourself or become jealous over one's beauty but for some reason an odd thought appeared to your head, correlated to your boyfriend — the one who showered you with affection everyday.

you couldn't help but realize the fact that they were wearing the same thing as you - similar almost, and you saw the way they outshined you in every way. other girls had their hair styled just like yours, but yet theirs was shinier than ever.

you felt goosebumps raise against the shown parts of your skin, as you banged your palm against your arm, a sign to distract yourself as you tried to focus on whatever martin was talking about on the side of you to one of his friends.

you looked around your surroundings, invading different peoples conversations visually, looking at their orders almost in hunger as you didn't felt the need to eat prior to this — you just didn't tell martin. hence why you insisted on chilling at the barstools instead.

"what you thinking about?" you felt a shiver down your back as a random gush of air hit against your ear, interrupting your observation.

your head whipped to the sound, releasing a slight chuckle in embarrassment, "nothing why?" you watched the way his face didn't have his typical outgoing smile that he always had. it was more so a smile that showed small emotion, emotion of knowing something has to be wrong.

"i mean you're not eating and you're not talking either? you wanted to come here right?" he said softly, watching the way your fingers still drummed against your arms, before looking back towards your eyes.

you avoided his gaze, almost letting out a deep sigh — a sigh that would've shown the true, and the real feelings that were trapped within you but you quickly disregarded it, not wanting to express them in front of martin.

"i'm just tired?" you replied instantly, but not truthfully. you weren't even sure yourself, being confused with your own words and thoughts, combined all at once.

he hummed at your response, not being oblivious to your answer but he didn't want to act on it furthermore, creating a deeper silence between the two of you, the unnecessary tension as he stared at your side profile.

the way your eyes slowly blinked, the way your lips were pursed, the drumming of your fingers becoming more frantic, it wasn't any more obvious that something was stressing you out.

"you know, you can tell me if something is wrong"

you shook your head at him, quickly denying any type of rumor he would make up. you wanted to be fine — the reasoning felt too dumb to explain, you thought it would make you look stupid rather than feel stupid if you were to bring it up.

he sighed, as he examined your demeanor once more before turning back to talk to his friends. your eyes immediately removed itself from your arm, as your fingers came to a halt. you looked over to him one more time, watching the way his energy went back to normal despite the tense conversation you just had with him.

you nodded to yourself, as you looked away from him and his friends, continuing to observe around the area. but it got to the point where you felt misplaced — not in the way that you felt bored, but you felt like you weren't meant to be considered pretty.

looking around at the females who came with their friends, who deserve partners but probably don't worry about them –themselves. how less of an effort they can put into their beauty and yet still feel comfortable, without having a single doubt in their minds.

martin didnt talk to you much after that, assuming you had a lot on your mind due to the short and hurried responses you gave to him. but that made you want to explode even more. you wished that you can just open up and talk paragraphs to him about everything, but why was it so difficult? he's the one who sees the beauty that you can't see, he sees the perfection in you, he chose you for a reason.

your brain felt like it was melted with overwhelming thoughts — thoughts that made you worry for the worse, that made you feel unseen.

you looked at martin one last time before getting up from the stool, not giving him a glance when you finally stepped down. you made your way out of the scene as quickly as you could, not baring with any of your surroundings. you had no idea where you were going to walk to, you didn't even know the place that well.

you made your way to the closest thing, the only thing that you could see which was the main enterance. nobody was there, nobody was entering nor leaving. perfect space for you to hangout by yourself.

you didn't want to cry, you couldn't even cry. despite all those emotions that were built up deep down, it didn't come out. you felt lightheaded over everything.

you brought a hand up to your forehead, shutting your eyes mid proces. you felt small tears brim up in the corner of your eyes but you didn't force them out, you just let them sit there like your tears were unsure of releasing themselves. being in this position felt so stressful to you. why is opening up so difficult?

martin felt your prescene leave, he felt a shift in the air ever since you had sat down next to him. but the way you didn't bother looking at him or give him a word onto where you were going, led him thinking — thinking too much. were you mad at him? or did you just not feel good. if you didn't feel good, you'd usually let him know that you want to go back home but you didn't do any of that.

although he watched you to where you were heading, his attention tried to remain back onto his friends, trying to give you some space. thinking that you'd just come back on your own. but he couldn't. he kept thinking about you, about your feelings, and why you were acting like this. he needed to talk to you.

excusing himself from his friends, he made his way over to the main enterance, hoping you were still there and didn't leave your spot.

that's where he found you, your back slouched against the stone bench that was set by the doors, jacket rested lazily over your shoulders, as you dozed off to the plant in the corner of the room. there were no tears on your face, no leftovers marks, but he could see how you were feeling just by the way your eyes were narrowed, aswell as the slight pout on your lips.

"are you okay? youve been acting up all night." he said, standing over you. you didnt look at him, but your doze ended. you blinked slowly before letting out a sigh, "i'm fine." you repeated again.

it was his turn to sigh, "you're really not. can you just talk to me or do you want to go home?" he finally sat down next to you, though not too close to you. he wanted you to find your comfort state back.

you finally looked at him with a slight grin, "am i'm pretty?" you felt like laughing at yourself. why would you even say something like that. your grin started to falter, when you saw the way the corner of his lips were threatening to rise.

"are you seriously asking me that right now?" he smiled softly, almost laughing at your question. but that just made you groan, "yes i'm being serious martin. i'm sitting here looking at other girls and thinking that you probably find them more prettier than me." you rambled off, avoiding his gaze by now.

those tears came back, still threatening for it's release but you really tried to hold them back. you didn't want to break down in front of your boyfriend, rambling about stupid stuff.

"what...do you even hear what you're saying?" he leaned over to get a closer look at your face. he saw your tears prickling in the corner of your eyes though he hadthat smile still remaining on his lips, "why would i settle for another female when i have the most prettiest girl sitting right in front of me?"

you shut your eyes, another sigh releasing from you — showing how much his words effected you. but you stayed silent, sitting there as you tried to compose your tears.

his face softened from the way your lip was slightly trembling, your eyebrows furrowing alongside. he could tell you were really trying to keep yourself from breaking down and it broke him apart completely. "you seriously need to understand that there's nothing to be thinking too much about here, my love for you is so obvious and it'll remain always." he rested his hand on top of yours, playing with your rings, not entirely wanting to grab your hand fully. he's your boyfriend after all, but he's never seen you in this state before.

you opened your eyes, looking straight at him now, "i know it's stupid but like..." you looked down to your lap, now playing with your skirt, settling into silence for a bit before speaking up again, "i can't help but think that you'd leave me for no reason."

"in what world would i leave the most perfect girl just to ruin my life?" he chuckled slightly, "i think i would rather die.."

you couldn't help but smile a bit. although he was talking to you with laughs and smiles, you could feel the truth just by his words and by the small actions he was making towards you.

you groaned in a more laughing matter, "gosh i hate you.." you pushed his shoulder a bit, "i can never be sad because of you" you sniffled one last time, a tear drop running down your cheek — you weren't even sure if that tear was from sadness or from joy.

"why the hell would you wanna be sad?" he raised an eyebrow at you, shifting closer to you now that he's seen that you've gotten more comfortable. "i don't know, i always get into my feelings and then you come out here having me giggling, almost forgetting why i'm even sad." you pursed your lips.

"isn't that the point? to distract you from being sad?" he laughed, "i don't want to see you sad. i don't even know why you're feeling like you're not pretty enough for me. like seriously."

you frowned a bit, "i know you love me but like i can't help but think you deserve someome better than me.." you said low, mumbling your words.

he clicked his tongue at your words, returning a slight shove back to your shoulder, "i do not deserve someone better than you, you're literally everything i ever wanted."

you smiled, "you love me?" you teased him, smirking with an raise of an eyebrow. "of course i do you doofus, now stop thinking bad let's head back"

"i wanna leave though.." you muttered. "okay then let's leave." he got up from his spot, picking up his jacket from the side of him. "you're not gonna say bye to your friends?" you got up after him, fixing the jacket that was resting on your shoulders.

"i don't care about them, i care and love you way more. now let's go i'm gonna buy you some food because you can't come here thinking you're not gonna eat for three hours straight."

he took the jacket from iff your shoulders, putting it through your arms. he then zipped it up for you, staring at you for a good second afterwards. "stop staring at me you freak" you giggled at him, furrowing your eyebrows is fake digust.

he chuckled, as he grabbed your hand, planting a quick kiss on the back of it, before intertwining your hand with his own. "i can stare at you all day, pretty"

© yuesning — all rights reserved. DO NOT translate, copy, or transfer my works to other sites. this is my only writing blog.

TAGLIST: @eohyeons , @lovhyeon , @j-jinxee , @hiitzstar , @lovelynyah , @nataliasdiary , @meiisamotherbitch , @eomsean , @riyuukii , @samlovesfood0 , @myplanetdidi , @dearlyhyeon , @stayville-citizen , @realseanshady

[ceuxnoirst]

yappatron • martin edwards

syn. just as you're about to sleep, your roommate martin decides to bug you just because he can't fall asleep, and ends up "disturbing" you with his late night thoughts.

contains. implied 6th member (gender neutral) reader, roommates with keonho & martin, late night talks, snobby and easily irritated reader, implied distant reader, sunshine martin, yapper martin!, 1.3k words.

warnings. not proofread writing, separate fiction from reality, "tsundere" stereotype mentioned, laying/sitting on the same bed, intended lowercase writing.

note. i love martin he reminds me of a sunflower

another long day from pre-recording has finished, and you're now worn out to the core lying on your bed.

it was past midnight already, and you've already said goodnight with each of your members an hour ago, yet you still can't sleep.

your eyes are heavy—but just moments after you think that you can't sleep, drowsiness and exhaustion seems to finally hit your nerves.

you're relaxed, relieved, and just about to knock out of consciousness—

until you can hear the sound of someone shifting uncomfortably from the bed beside yours, and that has to be no one other than martin.

you try to ignore it at first, thinking it's just the usual thing where people shift their positions when they sleep—but then you hear him move again.

not even a minute later and it sounds like he threw a blanket off him while sitting up. you don't pay any attention, and attempt to focus on calming yourself down for a good night's sleep.

that obviously fails when you feel a soft tug from the sleeve of your shirt. you don't react, in hopes martin will leave you alone and figure out his problem by himself.

"i know you're awake." he says in a soft whisper, audible enough for you to hear.

"go to sleep."

"i can't."

"well, i can. goodnight." you bluntly said, hiding yourself under the blanket and facing the wall.

"you're a terrible liar. your breathing has been uneasy since you laid down." he points out, which makes you even more irritated.

it turns silent, and you think he gave up to eventually sleep in peace.

assuming that he'll give up so easily is ridiculous, because he speaks once again.

"I hate when I can't sleep because I'm thinking about a lot of things." he opens up, and knowing you're not going to respond, he continues.

"I'm scared about a lot of things, the album, what we'll be in the future, like... you know. stuff like that."

your irritation seems to fade away, and you slowly flutter your eyes open while thinking of how to respond.

"I'm scared that our fans won't like the future songs we work really hard for—or maybe useless rumors will spread and one of you will back out from the group." martin rambles. you don't know if he's talking to himself, to you, or maybe to keonho.

he's clearly talking to you.

"I'm also scared of the changes we make in each album. everything is so underexplored, and we want to dive into everything as a group, without an exact concept. I'm afraid people will drop becoming our fans because we get boring from trying to be ourselves." you hear him let out a sigh, and the tone he's giving is so soft yet full of sadness.

you pull yourself out from under the blanket, facing towards martin while sitting up.

you're met with him leaning on the headboard of his bed, an unreadable look on his face—but you know he's thinking deeply.

grabbing a pillow from your own bed, you lightly throw it at him. he looks at you confusingly when he catches it, the orange-yellow hue of your night lamp glows enough for you to see the look on his face.

"it's not bad to get those thoughts, but don't dive into it too much." you scold him, a frown on your face from how you're not used to seeing martin get all emotional.

"well, yeah, i know. it's just... leader thoughts i guess." he looks down, and he looks so sad. it makes you even more irritated.

"you don't have to carry all of those alone. a leader can't be formed without their members, after all." you say, in hopes of reassuring him. he looks at you like you just pressed a light switch on him.

"didn't know you can be thoughtful."

"didn't know you can be so sad." you immediately retort, "don't try to bottle those up just because you're a leader, dude."

martin falls silent, and you're about to lay back down on your bed when he suddenly gets off from his and jumps at you.

"what the heck-!"

"shh, you'll wake keonho up!" he yells in a whisper, placing his index on his lips while he comfortably sits beside you on your futon.

"no, YOU'LL wake keonho up. go back to your bed."

"aw, c'mon y/n! late night talks are the best when you're close to each other."

just as you're about to answer him in annoyance, keonho suddenly moves from his bed while making a light groan. your whole body freezes, and martin's does as well with both hands over his mouth.

after a good minute of confirming the youngest isn't awake, you immediately glare back at the blond who's sitting in front of you.

"this isn't a late night talk."

"stop being a tsundere, i barely talk to you like this."

"I'm not a tsundere? go to sleep or I'm waking everyone up."

martin smiles widely, not budging away from his spot on your bed. he then takes like half of your blanket and places it over his legs—the warmth he's radiating mixes with yours under the covers.

"did you know next to james, you were really hard to talk to?" he says, ignoring what you previously said.

knowing there's no escape, and absolutely nothing else can make him get off your bed, you give up and sigh.

"no, I didn't know."

"i always wondered before why you got along with him first than the rest of us did."

"and what you're trying to say is?"

"nothing. I'm just wondering." he says, looking at you like he didn't just vent earlier.

"...i initially wanted to get closer to you." you suddenly admit, leaning on the headboard. he turns to you eagerly.

"and you're telling me this nine months into our debut?!"

"you know what, forget i said anything." you throw him another pillow, and martin laughs while covering his mouth to prevent himself from being too noisy.

"no, but seriously, what? tell me more!" he persists, and you think for a while before giving in. there's no one else listening anyway—no cameras, no interviewers, no crazy fans watching.

"i got shy. you're like the sun. you're too bright that i thought I'm too low for you to talk to." he lets out an exaggerated gasp from your admission.

"you really are a tsundere."

you shoot him another glare before he raises both arms in surrender, holding back a laugh. he's grinning from ear to ear.

you loosen up a bit, exhaling deeply before he starts talking again, like—

"would you rather be a banana eaten by a monkey or the grass that gets eaten by goats?"

"do you think ghost's are real?"

"have you seen that one scene in diary of a wimpy kid: rodrick rules where he ate that forbidden cheese? i think our forbidden cheese is seonghyeon's food."

"i get scared of you sometimes, because keonho once said you were telepathically cursing him out when he ate your butter tteok last time."

from how overstimulated you got from his never ending topics, you were slowly drifting off to sleep, only nodding in response when he asked another question.

martin stops yapping when he notices you trying to not let your head fall off, eyes half-lidded while you slump against the headboard.

he admires your state quietly, a soft smile seen on his face.

"you know, y/n, i wish we'd have more talks like this. whenever you're asleep, it's always me and keonho doing this." he says, words fading into a whisper.

you can hear everything he's saying, but your mind chooses to close your eyes and lower your head instead.

you're too absent-minded to notice how he gently lays you down onto the bed from your sitting position, making light movements to ensure a comfortable position for you.

"goodnight, martin." you mutter, and his eyes widen a bit in surprise while covering you and him with the blanket.

"...goodnight," he says, and of course he doesn't realize the silly grin he has and how red his face is.

the next day, you wake up choked by martin hugging you like a bear under the blanket, and keonho yelling at both of you to get up while saying things like "traitors" or "backstabbers".

꒰ 🌊 — @cookyland @weirdowithaphone @toj1sgf @yeeyeehaw22 @inadazeee ꒱

© ceuxnoirst

[nxliee]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ m.j edwards - “do i have what it takes?”

— in which your boyfriend martin has a meltdown from stress.

𓂃۶ৎ idol!martin, fem!reader, tears, kisses, skinship, stress, sensitive topics, sadness x comfort

It’s 3AM, and the studio smells like cold coffee and exhaustion.

Martin is slumped over his laptop with his elbows propped up under his chin, holding up his head like it weighs a ton. His body looks limp and fragile. He’s tired; you can see it in the way his body threatens to stop holding itself up.

The track he’s been working on endlessly repeats for the tenth time, a certain beat hitting a little too hard against his temples. He closes his eyes, furrows his brows into his hairline and lets a sigh out, the type of sigh that starts low in his chest, a slow build of air that slowly escapes.

He plays it again, and again.

He plays it so many times his head ends up fully in his hands, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

You approach quietly, because you know what Martin is like, if you try and confront him head on, he plasters a smile on his face and just says he’s fine.

But you know he’s not fine.

“Tini,” You say softly, wrapping your arms warmly around his shoulders from behind his chair. “You should take a break.”

He lets out a small, hollow chuckle. “I’m good, just finishing up, i’ll be 10 minutes.”

Your heart aches, like it’s being split straight down the middle with a saw. You know he’s overworking himself, but you also know he’s too stubborn to give up. You tighten your grip around him, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. He’s warm.

Martin overworks himself a lot, even if he denies it, you know that he does. He skips meals, misses out on sleep and locks himself inside until he’s satisfied with what he’s made. And even when he is satisfied, he will continue to listen to what he’s created over and over just in case.

“Martin, just let yourself relax for once.” You sigh against his ear.

You bury yourself in his scent, shaking your head against him.

That small gesture makes him pause. He spins his chair round, forcing you to let go of the grasp you have around him. But now, he’s looking directly at you. And the moment you make eye contact, you realise his condition is worse than you thought. His eyes are bloodshot, dark circles so bad you could mistake him for a vampire. You can’t help but notice his complexion too, he looks drained almost ghastly. His jaw is clenched tightly, like he’s been holding every single bit of stress in.

He exhales, but it comes out shaky.

“You know I can’t,” He says, voice low, like he’s afraid saying it out loud will make it come true. “The album, my schedule, the rest of the guys, everything and everyone is counting on me,” He weakly leans his head on your chest, grabbing you lightly by the hips. “What if I can’t be what everyone needs? What if i’m not a good leader, producer, boyfriend, not good at anything?”

How could he say that?

This was the love of your life, and he’s saying these things about himself. It made your chest twist with guilt, all you wanted to do was to lift just a single burden off of his shoulders, he didn’t deserve all this pressure. He’s too young.

You raise your hands up to his head, softly ruffling his hair between your fingertips.

“Hey,” You whisper, patting his head. “Look at me.”

And so he does, reluctantly, but he does.

“You’re not messing anything up ,Tini. You’re amazing. You are part of the reason why you have this amazing life and group. You care too much about everyone, don’t do this to yourself.”

His eyes ever so slightly begin to glaze over, a light film of tears covering his tired pupils. “That’s the problem,” He says, voice breaking. “It’s so hard having to be perfect for everyone.”

You can see him fighting the tears back, trying to swallow it back down.

“You don’t have to be perfect for anyone, especially me. Just be yourself, that’s more than I could have ever asked for in life,” You move your hands down, rubbing his shoulders. “I promise.”

He stands up weakly out of his chair, towering over you. Out of nowhere, he recklessly throws his arms around you, collapsing into you like you’re the only thing in the world that can hold him up.

“I’m scared i’ll let you down.” He mumbles against your hair.

“You won’t,” You whisper into his chest. “You’re my everything, it’s impossible for you to let me down. If anything, I’ll be the one to let you down.”

He rests his chin delicately on the apex of your head. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t ever say that.” You pull back just enough to look up at him, shooting him a hurt look. “I love you, even when you’re the sleep deprived, dramatic, 3AM Martin.”

That gets a choked out laugh out of him.

Yet through the laughter, a solemn tear rolls down his cheek; a tear that threatens to escapes.

“Oh, Tini.” You sigh.

This time, you pull him in, gripping your arms tightly around his waist. You plant your head on his chest, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat thumping against your ear. Even his heart sounds tired.

He strokes the back of your head in careful strokes, like he’s scared of damaging you.

“I’ll be okay, i’m okay,” He sniffles. “I’ll always be okay if i’m with you.”

“Martin you know i’ll always be here, but I need you to know when to stop too. I can’t stand seeing you overwork yourself to exhaustion like this. I know you’re not alright.”

His heartbeat rises.

“I’ll do my best for us, okay?” Martin mutters.

“I’m only okay if you’re okay too,” You reply. “So don’t push yourself this hard.”

“I’m scared if I don’t, I’ll fail. I’ll fail at everything, what’s the point of being a leader if I can’t even take care of myself?”

“You’ve been given this role because you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, you take care of everyone, and that’s something not a lot of people can do. That’s why you’re so loved, your fans love you, your members love you, I love you.”

He looks up, refusing to look at the precious being he was holding as if one glance would break him completely. And for a while, his eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, blinking fast, like he could blink away the sting in his eyes before it all spilled. You could hear him breathing heavily through his nose, each inhale slow and measured yet every exhale shaky at the edges. He holds the pain in his chest.

“Do you think I have what it takes?” He asks weakly.

With all the courage he has in him, he looks down at you.

You reach up on your tiptoes, taking his head in your hands, brushing his cheek delicately. Martin leans into your touch like he’d forgotten how to breathe and you were the only source of air. A sound comes from his throat - raw and fragile, his words threatening to not come out.

“You have more than what it takes,” you reply whilst stroking his warm cheeks. “I see the way you stay up late, perfecting these songs, I see the way you take the blame when things go wrong, I see you. I see all of you.”

A delicate smile broke through despite his stress, it was shaky and crooked but it was real. A real, genuine smile from Martin.

“I love you.” He says.

“I love you too.”

Slowly, he crouches over and leaves a gentle, soft kiss on your forehead. And just through his kiss, you can tell he means every word he says. This boy loves you more than anything, and you can feel it too.

“Thank you, for seeing me.”

You promise to always see him, every single part of him.

Always.

[prettyinorchid]

accidentally, lovingly

⋆˚࿔ martin x fem!reader ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ in which martin says the wrong thing at the right time ᢉ𐭩 fluff! kissing! ۶ৎ awkward martin ᥫ᭡. enjoy🪷💗

the night market was crowded in the nicest way possible.

warm lights hung above the narrow streets, music echoed from somewhere in the distance, and every few steps martin got distracted by something new. a game stall, a food stand, some weird little trinket he swore reminded him of you.

“you want that?” he asked for the third time that night, pointing toward a plush hanging from one of the booths.

you laughed. “martin i do not need another stuffed animal.”

“but this one looks like you.”

you stared at the ugly plush in horror. “be for real.”

“it’s cute!” he defended immediately, sounding offended for the plush more than himself.

eventually, after losing at least four games and accusing the booth owner of cheating, martin dragged you toward a tiny ceramic painting stall tucked between two food stands.

the woman running it smiled knowingly the second you both sat down beside each other.

“couple discount?” she offered sweetly.

before you could answer, martin nearly inhaled his own saliva.

“we’re not- i mean-“

you smiled to yourself while he awkwardly sat down, grabbing the nearest paintbrush to save himself.

for a while, the two of you just painted quietly. shoulders brushing every now and then. martin was weirdly focused on painting a tiny ceramic cat while you worked on a little star shaped dish.

except his cat looked absolutely terrible.

one ear was huge, the paws were smudged blue, and every time he tried fixing it, it somehow got uglier. you couldn’t help but giggle.

“stop laughing” he muttered without looking up.

“i’m trying” you giggled. “it just looks a little… weird.”

martin sighed. “well, i’m making it for you, so be respectful.”

your smile softened immediately.

“you’re making it for me?”

“obviously” he said quietly, carefully painting one of the whiskers. “i mean… i’m trying to make it pretty. like you. it couldn’t be prettier than you though, but i’ll try to fix it because i’m in love with you, so.”

the world genuinely went silent for a second.

even martin’s hand stopped moving mid brushstroke.

slowly, painfully slowly, he looked up.

his eyes widened.

“…oh my god.”

you stared at him while your heart practically flipped inside your chest.

martin blinked once before dropping his head into his hands with a groan.

“wait” he mumbled. “wait, wait, wait.”

a laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

his ears were completely red now.

“you weren’t supposed to hear it like that” he muttered into his palms. “i had an actual plan.”

“oh, you had a plan?” you teased softly.

“yeah! something cool and romantic!” he complained. “not this!”

you looked down at the ugly ceramic cat between his hands and smiled.

“i don’t know” you said quietly. “i think this is pretty romantic”

martin lowered his hands, staring at you carefully like he was trying to figure out whether you were joking. “really?”

instead of answering, you gently took the ceramic cat from him and placed it aside before leaning closer.

martin’s breath caught instantly.

“really.” you whispered.

you reached out to push a stray strand of hair on his forehead aside. you rested your hand on his jaw delicately. and then you kissed him.

soft and warm and smiling halfway through because martin made the most shocked noise against your lips.

when you pulled away, he just stared at you for a second. “where’s the booth lady?”

you scrunched your brows a little with a smile. “why?”

“…i need her to know her ‘couples discount’ worked.”

ᝰ.ᐟ a/n: hey guys!💗 hope you enjoyed this little blurb☺️🌸 shy martin confirmed in an interview😼

• i got sick, so i’m fighting for my life + my cat just puked on my computer. lovely morning, so i’ve heard🧍🏻‍♀️ currently working on the requests!💓🤧

[bunnykao]

WE NEVER DATED — e. martin ᝰ .ᐟ

OO4. just a few skipped meals

synopsis ; You and Martin were inseparable as kids. but ever since he got a girlfriend, you decide to put your feelings aside and cut him off, focusing on your own idol career.

But now that he's also debuted—meaning that you'll be seeing him often in the building, Martin refuses to stop bugging you he finally finds out why you ghosted him in the first place.

ss count ; 6 pictures

word count ; 1.82k+ words

warnings ; slight manipulation, depictions of the beginning of an eating disorder, slight angst

taglist ; open until june 10th !

a / n ; kinda felt that this chapters ending hit a little too close to home hahaha :)

MASTERLIST | OO3. | OO4. | OO5.

As you finish the last bit of recording of interviews of the group, you bow at each member, before the blinking red light of the camera turned off.

You sigh out a breath of relief, Martin visibly tensing down as you aren't on the public's eye anymore. Looking at him, you remember what you were planned to do after this.

Did he really want me to get close with Soojin?

"What?" Martin looked at you, smirking as he adjusted his clothes and looked from afar, smoldering badly, as he sighs out, "Nah, it's fine. I get it, I'm handsome. It's cool."

He earned a punch to the shoulder for that, scoffing at him in disbelief.

As the attention toward you guys died down, you hesitate to say something, the mood calm and relaxed, before saying, "Hey."

"Hmm?" he turned his head toward you, as you guys walked toward your respective groups' room.

". . . Are things going well with Soojin?"

Martin's steps halt for a second before falling back into step, looking around you guys to see if anyone heard, before clearing his throat.

"Uh, yeah." he nodded, smiling like they weren't talking about what could be his biggest scandal if anyone heard their conversation.

"It's been a little y'know, ahem— a little rocky, but that's how all relationships are, right?"

"Cool, that's— yeah, that's cool." you noncommittally reply as you nod, your face showing no visible expression, neutral and calm even though your voice wavered in the middle of your sentence.

"Why the sudden interest?" he asked, confused that you were suddenly asking about her.

"It's nothing, just. . . we're gonna be hanging out after this, so—" you were going to speak and elaborate even more, but then you saw Martin's face.

"What?" you ask, unsure of what you said wrong.

You watched as the tall boy's eyes go wide, "You?"

". . . Yes?" you reply, tilting your head, looking at him as you walked in sync. He then put a small hand to your back for a second as you almost turned the wrong way, before speaking in a way that you could feel that his mind wasn't processing it well.

"You. . . and Soojin?"

"Yeah," you say once more, "Y'know, I thought you'd be more on board with this."

"No, it's not like—" he sighs out, "I mean it's not like I'm not," he tries to defend himself as gestures with his hands as he spoke, "It's just. . . I didn't expect it, I guess."

"I thought you were the one who suggested it, though?" you pointed at him, before the boy giving you a puzzled expression.

"Uh, no. . .? Well," he denies, before thinking of it for a second. Maybe he said it in passing to Soojin?

"Yeah, no. As much as I love you and her, I didn't say anything to her about whatever you're talking about."

You hate the fact that your stomach flipped for a second when he said he loved you.

Even when he didn't mean it in the same way that you and your body interpreted it.

"Oh. . ." you mumble, before thinking of the most valid reason. "Maybe she was going to surprise you that your best friend and girlfriend were actually close now, I dunno."

He kisses his teeth, his brows slightly furrowed, "I guess so."

You part ways as you both make it to your respective groups, the only time you see each other after that was from your respective seats in the audience, giving each other weird faces and rolling eyes.

Without a mutual anchor to steer the conversation—aka Martin—you thought that holding conversation with Soojin would be a harder task.

The hangout was actually pretty fun for you, with her carrying the bulk of the conversation as she took you into a small cafe that allowed customers to do canvas paintings of one another.

You were pleasantly surprised that you could even endure more than one speech of dialogue without her giving you a stink eye. She seemed really nice, just like what you saw online.

Maybe the weird feeling that you were being judged by her the first time Martin introduced you to her long ago was just you overthinking things. There's no other explanation for it.

"Hah," she chuckled, putting her phone down as she scrolled as the replies of her tweet of your guys' (or is the right term girls'?) date.

"Martin's pretty giddy that we're hanging out together."

You hum out a noncommittal noise, focused on taking a look at Soojin's face then back at your canvas. You clearly were not doing a good job.

"That's cool, I'm glad too. To be honest with you, I thought we'd never be able to hang out alone. . ." you confess.

Soojin merely lets out a small chuckle, before waving you off, taking a sip of her coffee. "Don't worry about it, we're friends now, right?"

". . . I guess so." you shrug, looking back at her with a polite grin, one that she reciprocates.

The conversation between you drifts dramatically, the topics switching from food choices to fashion. . . then the subject of your girls' discussion had shifted to Martin.

"I'll be honest with you, first time we met, I was. . . surprised honestly." Soojin sighed, a small neutral smile as she painted.

"Surprised?" you repeated, unfocused on the conversation as you kept on dabbing brush strokes on the painting.

"I mean, yeah— it's just, I never expected you and him to be all close with one another, y'know?"

The fingers that were holding your brush had halted its movement, your brain processing how to move forward with what she had said. Hesitantly, you tilt your head, the canvas' size going out of view, before you could see her face as she painted on her respective artwork.

"I, uh— What do you mean by that?"

"Well, it's not like a bad thing!" she had said, finally sensing you looking at her, putting her brush down, "It's just, Martin's such a powerhouse, right?"

"And I'm not?"

"No, silly." she grinned at you, full of incredulity like you'd said something funny.

"It's kind of like. . . it's hard to believe that Martin can have someone like you to lean on and surprisingly feel fine," she simply explains, "'Cause he's someone that has so much energy. Kind of like that. . . y'know what I mean?"

No.

No the fuck you did not.

The topic of conversation ends there, with you left to wonder what the actual fuck was she trying to say, with you stuck in airplane mode, zoned out while you painted, unaware that Soojin had seemed focused on your every micro-expression.

So, was she trying to say that you were dull and unfit to be someone on the same level as him? Was that something everyone in the media thought of now with the knowledge that you guys are childhood friends.

All of this emotional turmoil simmered at the top of your head, while she was just left there, going back to painting like she didn't scratch the surface of something that you didn't know if you were ever going to get to the bottom of.

It takes a few more minutes for your mind to take a backseat, the thoughts finally calming down as you settled into familiarity again, comfort.

Until it didn't.

You were just talking about being an idol and then the crazy routines and regimens they had put you both through.

"I literally had to risk getting put into hiatus, because I refused to follow their ice diet for 3 weeks straight," Soojin shared, with you obviously scoffing in disbelief at the mistreatment.

"Jesus," you mutter in bewilderment as you laugh awkwardly.

"I know, it's crazy, right?" the girl expressed loudly, with you nodding and humming agreement, still focused on painting.

"Is your guys' company forcing you guys to go on diets too?" she asked. You were about to answer, until she tagged on her next sentence. "I mean, your other members probably not, but are you?"

That made you look at her once more, your body tensing as you observe the girl already staring at you in an expression you could only describe as pity.

"Uh. . . no? What, uhm," you clear your throat. "What would make you assume that?"

"Oh, no it's just. . . I'm a little worried, I guess." she shrugs, looking worried at you, "I mean the netizens online are literally flaming every female idol for not looking. . . the best, y'know? So, I just assumed that they'd mistreat you too."

"Oh."

She's already moved on, saying something about how she's just worried that your group's company is forcing you to do something unethical, and she wishes that you'll be safe.

But your mind has already filtered her annoyingly incessant and condescending buzz of a voice as white noise. Now, your focus was dead set on figuring out what she was implying.

Yeah, that's kind of where the happy vibes without you second-guessing every move you've done as an idol ended.

Now, it just feels like everything you've done ever since the start of your career was wrong. You were just too blind to notice. And she wasn't.

The hangout continued great, though. Even if you were currently overthinking everything.

Soojin seemed like a great friend, you couldn't lie. But the things that she pointed out those minor things, it felt like all you could focus on until you got home.

The door of the dorm unlocked, the doorbell ringing as you entered the right code, "I'm home. . ." you mumbled, not really in the mood to shout now.

"Hey!" Danielle greeted you, calling your name as you walked over to her place on the living room couch after kicking your shoes off. "How'd it go? Was it bad? Horrendous? Absolutely vile? C'mon, tell me."

Everyone seemed to be in their respective rooms, the few seconds of silence seeping in before you heard muffled voices from their doors.

You shrugged, shrugging as you took your parka off, the heat of the dorm finally getting to you. "Eh, it was. . . eye-opening, to say the least."

The older girl hummed in interest, laying her head back on the couch's back. "Ooo, very vague. Very mysterious."

You could only laugh and wave her bye, before locking your room's door, the quiet of the room getting to you.

You breath in deep and let out a big sigh, before laying back on your bed's duvet.

The whole hangout replayed in your mind as you stared at the ceiling.

"I mean the netizens online are literally flaming every female idol for not looking. . . the best, y'know? So I just assumed that they'd mistreat you too."

Maybe you should start focusing on your bodily physique more. You're an idol, after all.

Yep.

You should.

Skipping a few meals wouldn't hurt. It would significantly help your body to look more ideal for the public eye.

Yeah.

Just a few skipped meals.

No big deal.

©bunnykao. I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WRITING OR PHOTOS BEING MODIFIED, PLAGIARIZED, REPOSTED, TRANSLATED, OR HAVING THEM FED TO AI.

taglist 1 ; @anglheartz @avis-writeshq @konolien @crtislver @mokkicchi @wonheeloves @rorylovess @sojulvrr @mirophobic @megamatt43 @wntershadow @marsgirltyshi @missdel @emmaitoshi @annieruok4y @eva459 @rumidemon @inadazeee @cookyland @bellesophiaa @yourqueenlady @lalipop143 @rie-diculous @coerluvvx @celestemera @moontmoochi @wisetriumphpeach @lovelyyari43 @lola11111111 @ssouupp @rateater0369 @xeiramz @dedlexte @rishki @lemongularly @doomedcherry @r0ckst4rjk @kpopsmutty69 @webz @hot-turtle @exclusiverinaa @stxr-lilac @thvvluvr @blossomxie @hiiiiiiiomomoko @martinslver @ges1ca @mzumi13 @wgucigu @youngddariana @sailorinthesie @xilosca @doradoro101 @katsukisser @enhytan @coerareyou @narcissanarcissa @jiyeons-closet @jesmightjumptmr @acai-girl-forevaaa @danicadagoat @carisd @m6nal

unfortunately, ones that aren't underlined i couldn't add for some reason :P

[coconhovr]

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗨 𝗖𝗥𝗬 𑣲 𝐉𝐔𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── juhoon who was never good at telling his emotions started crying infront of you after a heated argument between you two

★ bf ! juhoon × fem!reader

word count ── 3.2k

˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! JUHOON GOTTA BE THE PRETTIEST CRIER IVE EVER SEEN LIKE WHY IS HE JUST SO PRETTY ALL THE DAMN TIME 😓😓😓 UGH MY AEGI HES SO PRECIOUS TO ME 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The fight began the way most disastrous arguments do—not with screaming or shattered glass, but with something deceptively insignificant.

A forgotten text, a delayed response, a sigh delivered with the wrong tone. By midnight, however, the tiny fracture had widened into something jagged and catastrophic.

Rain tapped relentlessly against the apartment windows while the city beyond the glass dissolved into blurred streaks of gold and gray. The kitchen lights remained dim, casting amber shadows across the marble counters and illuminating the tension suspended thickly between the two of you.

You stood near the island with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, nails digging crescents into your sleeves as though physically holding yourself together.

Across from you, Juhoon leaned against the counter in suffocating silence.

That silence again. That unbearable, impenetrable quietness that made every disagreement feel one-sided, like throwing your emotions against a locked door and hearing nothing echo back.

His expression was composed in the infuriating way it always was—controlled, restrained, unreadable. Even now, during an argument that had your chest aching so violently you could barely breathe, he looked devastatingly calm.

You hated that, not because he was cruel, but because you could never tell if he cared as much as you did.

“You could at least look at me while I’m talking,” you said at last, your voice strained from holding too much emotion for too long.

His gaze flickered upward briefly before drifting away again. “I’m listening.”

“That’s the problem,” you replied bitterly. “You’re always listening. Never talking.”

His jaw flexed, a subtle reaction most people would miss.

You didn’t. You noticed everything about him because you had spent months teaching yourself how to love someone who communicated through fragments instead of sentences.

The way his fingers curled meant irritation. The slight tension in his shoulders meant discomfort. The silence meant he was overwhelmed.

Except tonight you were exhausted from deciphering him. “You always do this,” you continued, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. “Every single time we argue, you shut down and leave me to figure everything out on my own.”

“I’m not shutting down.”

“You haven’t said more than five words to me in ten minutes.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, already looking fatigued by the conversation. “You know I’m not good at this.”

A humorless laugh escaped you. “At what? Communicating? Having emotions?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” Your eyes burned. “Then tell me what is fair, Juhoon. Because I spend half this relationship wondering whether you actually want me here.”

That finally made him look at you directly, and the hurt in his eyes was immediate. But instead of softening you, it only made the frustration twisting through your ribs intensify. “You know that’s not true.”

“How would I know?” you shot back. “You never tell me anything.”

His patience began to fracture. You could hear it in the clipped cadence of his breathing. “I show you.”

“You show me in ways I have to analyze like I’m decoding some impossible language,” you said, voice rising. “Do you know how exhausting that is?”

He pushed away from the counter then, agitation radiating from him in restrained waves. “And do you know how exhausting it is feeling like nothing I do is enough for you?”

The words struck harder than expected. You blinked. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.” His tone sharpened. For the first time that night, genuine anger seeped through his carefully maintained composure.

“It’s always the same conversation,” he continued. “You keep asking for more and more and more from me like I’m failing some test I didn’t even know I was taking.”

“That’s not what this is!”

“Then what is it?” he snapped suddenly. “Because apparently loving you quietly isn’t enough. Remembering everything about you isn’t enough. Being there whenever you need me isn’t enough because I don’t say pretty things every five seconds.”

The accusation stole the air from your lungs. “I never asked for perfect words,” you whispered.

“Could’ve fooled me.” The cruelty in his voice was subtle, not loud nor explosive.  Which somehow made it worse.

Your throat tightened painfully. “I just want reassurance sometimes.”

“And I’m telling you I’m trying.”

“You barely talk to me when something’s wrong!”

“Because every time I do,” he said sharply, “it turns into this.”

Silence crashed between you again, only this time it felt vicious. Your heartbeat thudded painfully against your ribs. “You know what hurts the most?” you asked quietly. “I feel lonely even when I’m standing right beside you.”

Something cold flickered across his face then. Exhaustion, the kind born from feeling perpetually misunderstood. “And you know what I’m tired of?” he replied. “Feeling like I have to become someone else just to keep you satisfied.”

Your lips parted. “That’s not—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted, voice rougher now. “I can’t love the way you want every second of every day. I’m not overly emotional. I’m not good with words. And honestly?” His eyes hardened slightly. “Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation, we wouldn’t keep ending up here.”

The sentence landed like a blade driven straight between your ribs. The room went completely still. Juhoon seemed to realize it immediately.

You saw the regret flash across his features the second the words left his mouth. But it was too late, because suddenly every insecurity you had buried deep inside yourself came clawing violently to the surface.

Too clingy, too emotional, too much. Your face went blank in the terrifying way heartbreak sometimes empties a person instead of making them cry. “Wow,” you whispered.

“Baby, I didn’t mean—”

“No.” Your voice sounded distant even to yourself. “You meant it.”

His expression crumpled slightly. “I was angry.”

“That doesn’t make it less true.”

“It’s not true.”

But now you couldn’t stop hearing it. Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation. The sentence echoed viciously through your head.

You swallowed hard, suddenly unable to bear the sight of him. Without another word, you turned and grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair.

Juhoon straightened immediately. “Where are you going?”

“I need to leave for a while.”

“It’s raining.”

“I don’t care.”

He stepped forward then, panic finally overtaking the frustration on his face. “Don’t do this.”

You laughed softly, but the sound was hollow. “Do what? Leave before I embarrass myself by begging someone to love me correctly?”

His face paled. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

“I was frustrated—”

“And I was hurt.”

Your voice cracked at last. Raw devastation bleeding through the numbness settling over you. “You know what the worst part is?” you whispered, eyes glossy now. “I defended your silence for so long. To everyone. I kept telling myself you loved differently, that you cared in ways people couldn’t see.”

Juhoon looked like he physically couldn’t breathe.

“But tonight,” you continued shakily, “you made me feel stupid for wanting reassurance from the person I love.”

The apartment fell deathly silent. Rain battered the windows harder. His eyes glistened with immediate remorse “Please don’t leave angry.”

You stared at him for a long moment. At the boy you loved so desperately it frightened you. The boy whose quiet tenderness had once felt safe. Now it only felt unreachable. “I think if I stay right now,” you said softly, “I’ll say something unforgivable.”

Then you walked toward the door.

“Baby—”

But this time, when he said it, you didn’t stop, and the sound of the door closing behind you felt far too much like something breaking forever.

The night had become glacial by the time you finally wandered back toward the apartment. Hours had passed in a blur of rain-slick sidewalks, blurred streetlights, and thoughts so tangled they felt impossible to unravel.

The city was nearly silent now, stripped of its usual vibrancy, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rush of cold wind biting against your skin.

Your fingers were numb inside your jacket pockets. Your chest hurt worse. The argument replayed relentlessly in your mind no matter how hard you tried to outrun it.

Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation.

The sentence echoed like a bruise pressed over and over again. Part of you understood he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. You knew Juhoon better than anyone. You knew frustration twisted his words sharp sometimes, especially when emotions overwhelmed him.

But another part of you, the quieter, more fragile part—couldn’t stop wondering if there had been truth hidden beneath the cruelty.

Maybe you were too much. Too emotional, too needy, too difficult to love properly.

The thought hollowed something inside you, and somehow, despite all of it, despite the hurt still lodged painfully beneath your ribs—You missed him desperately, pathetically.

It had only been a few hours, yet every second away from him had felt profoundly wrong, as though some invisible thread tethered between your hearts had stretched too far without snapping completely.

By the time you reached the apartment building, exhaustion clung heavily to your bones. Your phone read 2:07 AM.

The hallway outside your apartment was eerily quiet. Even the usual flickering overhead light seemed dimmer tonight.

You stood outside the door for several seconds, staring blankly at the handle while anxiety twisted violently in your stomach. What if he was still angry? What if he regretted everything? What if—

You swallowed hard and unlocked the door anyway. The apartment was almost entirely dark. Only the small lamp beside the couch remained on, casting a muted golden glow across the living room. Shadows stretched lazily along the walls while rain continued murmuring softly against the windows.

And there he was. Your breath caught instantly.

Juhoon was curled awkwardly against the couch cushions, still wearing the same black hoodie from earlier. One arm lay draped over his face while the other rested limply against his stomach, like exhaustion had finally dragged him under after hours of waiting.

The sight alone nearly shattered you. He looked uncomfortable, restless. Like sleep had only claimed him out of complete emotional collapse.

Your chest constricted painfully. Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer. “Juhoon,” you whispered.

No response.

You crouched beside the couch quietly, your heart aching at how pale he looked beneath the warm light. Strands of dark hair had fallen messily across his forehead, soft and disheveled in a way that made him seem unbearably vulnerable.

Tentatively, you brushed your fingers through it. “Baby.”

His eyelashes fluttered faintly. Then slowly, reluctantly, his eyes opened, and your entire body went still.

His eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, wet. Like he had spent hours crying alone in the dark.

Your stomach dropped immediately. “Oh my god…”

The devastation on his face the moment he fully recognized you was almost unbearable to witness. Relief hit him so violently it physically altered his expression. His lips parted shakily.

Before you could even process it, Juhoon surged upright and wrapped his arms around you with desperate force, nearly knocking the breath from your lungs entirely, and then he broke apart.

A strangled sob ripped from his chest so abruptly that it startled you. His entire body trembled violently against yours while another shattered sound escaped him, raw and uncontrollable.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay,” you whispered immediately, climbing onto the couch beside him as your own vision blurred with tears. “Juhoon…”

He buried his face against your neck like he couldn’t bear to look at you directly, fingers clutching the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it almost hurt.

But you didn’t care, because Juhoon was crying. Juhoon, the boy who concealed every emotion behind silence and restraint—was sobbing in your arms like he had been holding himself together by a single unraveling thread.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out brokenly. Your heart cracked clean down the middle. “I’m so sorry.”

Another sob tore through him, rough and uneven. You froze for half a second, overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of his grief.

You had never seen him like this before. Never. 

Even during the worst moments of his life, Juhoon had always remained composed in that quiet, self-destructive way of his. He internalized everything. Buried everything. Suffered in silence because vulnerability terrified him more than pain itself.

But now?

Now he was unraveling completely beneath your touch, and somehow that hurt more than the argument ever had.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered frantically between shaky breaths. “I swear to god I didn’t mean it like that—I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.”

Tears spilled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. His breathing came unevenly, fragile hiccups interrupting nearly every sentence.

“You left and I just…” He swallowed hard, voice splintering apart. “I thought you were done with me.”

“Oh, Juhoon…”

“I called you like ten times,” he admitted weakly, words muffled against your shoulder. “I kept trying to figure out what to say, but nothing sounded right and I—fuck—”

His voice dissolved into another sob. “I can’t lose you.” The confession was so painfully sincere it made your own tears fall instantly.

You cupped his face carefully, forcing him to look at you despite the embarrassment flickering through his watery eyes.

And god, he looked devastated.

Wet lashes clung together while tears slid endlessly down flushed skin. His lips trembled uncontrollably, breath hitching every few seconds as though his body physically could not calm down now that the fear had finally escaped him, and beneath all that anguish.

Love.

So much overwhelming love it nearly stole the air from your lungs. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered softly.

His expression crumpled further. “I thought I already did.”

You brushed your thumbs beneath his eyes gently, catching tear after tear.

“I know I’m difficult,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know I make things hard because I don’t talk right, but I swear I love you more than anything.”

The sincerity in his voice shattered whatever remained of your anger, because he meant it. Every single syllable.

Juhoon loved with terrifying intensity. He just expressed it differently—through actions, through presence, through quiet devotion hidden in places words could never fully reach.

“I don’t know how to explain things the way you need,” he continued shakily. “But I need you here. I need you.”

Your chest ached so violently it almost felt unbearable. Without thinking, you leaned forward and kissed him softly.

The second your lips touched his, he melted completely. A trembling breath escaped him, shaky and uneven, before his hands slid around your waist with unmistakable desperation. Not possessive, but clinging, almost fragile, like he needed physical proof that you were truly there and not about to disappear again.

The kiss carried remnants of tears and exhaustion and unspoken apologies.

Juhoon kissed you like someone starved for reassurance, every movement hesitant at first before gradually deepening with overwhelming emotion. His lips trembled faintly against yours while his fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your hoodie, anchoring himself to you with quiet urgency.

You could still taste salt from his tears. Could still feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing brushing shakily against your skin, and somehow, that vulnerability shattered you more thoroughly than the argument ever had.

When you pulled back only slightly, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His eyes remained half-lidded and glassy, lashes damp and clumped together from crying. There was something devastatingly defenseless about the way he looked at you now, like every carefully constructed wall he’d spent years building had finally collapsed under the sheer magnitude of loving you.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered against his mouth.

He shook his head immediately, brows pinching together. “No, don’t apologize.”

“I left.”

“You were hurt.”

“So were you.”

That alone nearly made him cry again. A shaky breath escaped him before he buried himself against you once more, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as though separation itself had become unbearable now.

This time, he didn’t fight the tears. He let them come. Soft, broken sobs trembled through him while your fingers combed gently through his hair, untangling the storm little by little.

“I love you,” you murmured repeatedly against his temple. “I love you so much.”

Every single time you said it, his grip tightened, as though he was memorizing the feeling of hearing it.

Eventually his crying softened into quiet sniffles and exhausted breathing. You pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead. “Come to bed with me?”

He nodded weakly. The two of you moved through the apartment in silence, but it no longer felt hostile. Now it felt delicate, tender. Juhoon never let go of your hand once.

The second you both slipped beneath the blankets, he immediately curled himself against your side, burying his face near your shoulder while one arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Your fingers drifted slowly along his back beneath his hoodie, soothing the occasional tremor still lingering through his body.

The room remained quiet except for rain tapping softly against the windows and his gradually steadying breathing. Then, after several long minutes. “I never think you’re annoying.”

Your heart squeezed painfully. You glanced down at him. His eyes remained closed, voice rough and sleepy from crying. “I like when you cling to me,” he admitted quietly. “Makes me feel… wanted.”

A weak, watery laugh escaped you. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His fingertips curled faintly into the fabric of your shirt, hesitant and delicate despite the vulnerability trembling beneath the gesture. “When you need me like that,” he whispered quietly, voice still rough from crying, “it reminds me I matter to someone.”

You stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, because suddenly everything made sense. All this time, Juhoon had been loving you with the exact same desperation you loved him.

He just buried it beneath silence because he never learned how to voice it aloud.

Your expression softened entirely. The tension lingering in your chest melted into something overwhelmingly tender as your fingers brushed carefully along his cheek, your thumb grazing beneath his eye where faint traces of tears still remained.

He leaned into the touch instinctively. The sight nearly shattered you.

Slowly, you leaned down and kissed him again. This kiss was different from before, slower, sleepier. Overflowing with forgiveness instead of panic.

Your lips moved against his with lingering tenderness while his breathing softened gradually beneath the warmth of your touch. He kissed you back carefully, almost reverently, as though savoring every second instead of fearing its disappearance.

The room around you had become impossibly still. Only the rain tapping faintly against the windows and the occasional shaky exhale from Juhoon disturbed the silence.

One of his hands slid slowly upward along your side until it rested lightly against your ribs beneath your hoodie. The touch was featherlight, unhurried, his fingertips tracing absentminded patterns there like he simply needed to feel your heartbeat beneath his palm.

Yet even now, wrapped around you beneath dim bedroom lighting, Juhoon continued kissing you with heartbreaking sincerity, as if every unspoken emotion he’d buried for months was finally pouring out through touch instead of words.

Juhoon sighed softly against your lips before tucking himself impossibly closer, his face hidden safely against your neck now. “I love you,” he whispered once more, barely audible.

[multifandomtoesucker2026]

✦ “you're supposed to be teaching me, not staring.”

cortis — martin x illit!reader — oneshot

GENRE: fluff, soft crack, dance practice chaos, idol!au, boyfriend‑coded moments

WARNINGS: none, just oblivious pining + martin being obvious with his MASSIVE crush on you

SYNOPSIS: Martin and Seonghyeon are helping you and Wonhee learn the REDRED choreo for a dance collab… except Martin keeps getting distracted by you. You’re too focused on getting the moves right to notice, but everyone else definitely does.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hiiii! here’s a cute lil martin moment bc I swear he lives rent‑free in my brain atp. this idea was too adorable not to write, so pls enjoy <33 thank u sm for all the love on my recent posts, I love u guys sm !!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Characters are based on public personas only. Nothing here reflects real-life relationships or behavior. Please do not repost, translate, or copy my work to other platforms. Reblogs & comments are appreciated but never required!.

MASTERLIST:

The speaker crackles as the opening beat of REDRED fills the practice room, bouncing off the mirrors and polished floors. You’re already counting under your breath, trying to match the timing Moka keeps whispering beside you.

Across from you, Martin claps his hands together. “Okay! From the top. I’ll go slow.”

He says that, but he’s not looking at the mirror. He’s looking at you.

You don’t notice. You’re too busy trying to get the footwork clean, but Seonghyeon does. He’s standing behind Martin, arms crossed, watching the way Martin’s eyes keep drifting away from the choreography and straight to you.

“Hyung,” Seonghyeon mutters, “you’re off beat again.”

Martin blinks like he’s waking up from a trance. “Huh? No I’m not.”

“You literally did the move backwards,” Wonhee says, not even looking up from tying her shoelace.

You pause mid‑step. “Wait, backwards? I thought that was the right way-”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Seonghyeon says quickly. “Martin’s the one messing up.”

Martin shoots him a look that says shut up before I trip you, but Seonghyeon only raises an eyebrow.

You try the move again, slower this time, and Martin steps closer to adjust your arm position. His hand hovers for a second, like he’s debating whether touching you will make him combust, before he gently nudges your elbow.

“There,” he says softly. “Perfect.”

You smile at him, bright and proud. And that’s it. That’s the moment he forgets the entire choreography again.

Wonhee watches him stare at you like you hung the moon. She leans toward Seonghyeon. “Is he always like this?”

“Only around her,” Seonghyeon whispers back.

You’re too focused on the mirror to hear any of it.

“Okay,” you say, determined. “Let’s try it with music again.”

Martin nods. He absolutely does not hear what you said.

The music starts. You hit every move with laser focus. Martin hits… none of them.

He’s a full two counts late, staring at you like you’re the choreography he’s supposed to be learning.

“Hyung,” Seonghyeon groans, stopping the music. “Please. I’m begging you. Get it together.”

“I am together,” Martin insists.

“You’re literally not,” Wonheesays. “You’re staring at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

Martin’s ears turn red instantly.

“I- I wasn’t- I was just-” He gestures vaguely at the mirror. “looking at the… formation?”

“There is no formation,” Seonghyeon deadpans. “It’s four people standing in a line.”

You blink at Martin, confused. “Are you okay? You keep zoning out.”

He swallows. Hard.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired.”

You step closer, concern softening your features. “You should’ve said something. We can take a break.”

And just like that, he melts.

“Okay,” he says quietly, eyes softening in a way that makes Seonghyeon roll his eyes so hard he almost pulls something.

Wonhee claps her hands. “Break time! Maybe during the break Martin can remember which direction left is.”

Martin glares at her. You laugh. Bright, warm, the kind of sound that makes his heart do a backflip, and he forgets how to be annoyed.

You hand him a water bottle. He takes it, fingers brushing yours, and he looks away like the contact physically short‑circuited him.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me,” you tease lightly, “not staring.”

His head snaps up.

“I wasn’t- I mean- I wasn’t staring.”

You tilt your head. “Then what were you doing?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

Seonghyeon walks by, patting his shoulder. “He was staring.”

Martin shoves him lightly, face burning.

You laugh again. Soft, sweet, completely unaware of the effect you have on him, and Martin decides he’s never going to survive this collab.

Not if you keep smiling at him like that.

dividers by - @pixopix,

tagged - @faayzeswords, @coconhovr, @leosdigitalarchives, @noordinaryloovee, @hiiiiiiiomomoko, @lovelovingyou, @bakapd003

[yuahnfen]

soloartist!martin x soloartist!f!reader

synopsis ⋆ foldable lawn chairs & dating rumours contains ⋆ profanity, insane amount of banter, yn slander, flirting ( ? ) yn's artist claim is pinkpanthress ! featuring ⋆ cortis, kya of kiiikiii, wonhee from illit

note ⋆ part 3 how are we feeling... IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY EVERYONE AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES 😭 i had to delete the first one because I missed out a few ss here and there and it was lowk confusing...? so i just deleted the post all together. I hope u all like this chapter! also try savouring this chapter because next part is angst 🤭

m.list ⸝⸝ true romance ⸝⸝ part one ⸝⸝ part two ⸝⸝ part three

This is the first time you've seen a studio this huge in real life. You're used to working on your equipment in the comfort of your bedroom that you tend to forget most people have a professional studio. You take a deep breath, looking around the room, taking in your new surroundings. You're lost in your own world until Martin creeps up behind you, scaring the daylight out of you.

“Boo!” “AHH! WHAT THE FU- oh, it's you…”

“Damn, I totally got you there!”

“Martin! You scared the hell outta me.”

“Hey, I should've gotten that on recording, would've mixed it in a track.”

“Anyways, let's get to work. I tweaked a few things in the track to make it sound more… put together? I also did your parts so if you wanna change them, feel free to do so. I think this song fits your vibe.”

“Alright, let's hear it.”

You switch on your laptop, watching him put his headphones on before you slip on yours and press “play”. Martin is in awe by the end of the track, a big smile on his face

"Yooo! This is fire. Y/N, I wasn't aware of your game.”

“Thank you! It's such an honour to work with you and compliment my work…” “Take it easy, yeah? I feel like my verses need a bit of my touch but overall, it's amazing. Love the basement jaxx sample.” “Really? I sample them all the time.”

“That's cool. Anyways, you thought of a name for the song?”

“Romeo.”

“Romeo? Cool, huh… Is it about me?” He says, a smirk across his face.

“What- No! I mean… You'll never know. I'm not telling.”

“Aw, c’mon, y/n. You don't have to be so shy around me.”

“No it's just that I admire you so much, I've been listening to you since forever…. It's embarrassing to admit in front of you.”

“You mean 2024, right?”

“NOT YOU TOO??”

“Chill, I'm just playing with you! You're easy to ragebait. It's cute. Anyways, what do you want for lunch? It's on me.”

screenshots below

𝓣aglist 🖇️⭑ ( CLOSED ) @demiurqe @juhoonic @marsgirltyshi @zara-dollzy @luvpadron @2xred @aphantassia @eunjjx @2bamgyu @cokewithcameron @emmaitoshi @inadazeee @kpopsmutty69 @avis-writeshq @r0ckst4rjk @letterstohyeon @pigeonpuree @dprlyn @madisonmcraebuttle @rikikiynikilcykiki @qngelical @love-and-w3r @nosemierdaaa @lovrg1rl111 @freesofxx @doradoro101 @cortisen5 @teppanyakionmamac @nosemierdaaa @hiiiiiiiomomoko @braynsforsale @megamatt43 @mia-mita @xeiramz @loserloveremployee @parkedsunghoon1009 @tlissablr @lovelyyari43 @bakupakuu @thvvluvr @lola11111111 @academiq @brerob31 @mrssuna @joonieswildflower @ot8srzlover @love-purple678 @yurilover249 @elliotsbeigeguitar @hiheszach @amethyystlvr

[backonmyswag]

𝄞⨾💿 soundtrack for archived memories

PAIRING — rockstar!martin 𝗑 fem!𝗋eader ── .✦ SYN : You found the blog completely by accident. One wrong click from a dead link, another from an archived fan page, and suddenly you were staring at a Tumblr account that looked like it had been abandoned for over a decade. As you scroll through it you didn't realise the user was still active.

🪽CONTAINS．smau+written confused || 03

As you kept scrolling, you found more ancient relics especially related to his music career.

Even though his band didn't have much fans back he was still passionate and it seemed like that was all he cared about.

He did it for love.

TNT was one of their most popular songs. Seeing him get so nervous about something so silly as having the same title was funny to watch.

Their first concert?

'When and where was that?'

You searched it up on google to find out Cortis had their first concert at a small venue with around only 50-80 people.

Now they have thousands.

You continued to move through the posts and the next few made you gasp.

'He has a girlfriend. Holy shit.'

This was sensitive information especially now that he's a celebrity.

But it sounded so cute. The way he reacted about his first girlfriend made you feel soft inside.

You want that sort of love too, don't you?

You wondered if he was still dating that girl. Perhaps that's how he turned out to be such a romantic.

Since he fell in love as a teenager it must've been really special to him, especially while focusing on his music together at the same time.

You imagined the two teenagers being there for each other even though you had no idea what his girlfriend looked like.

But it was definitely cute and meant to be.

You could see why his girl said yes to him immediately. He was definitely a pretty boy with a personality unlike the usual bland guys that surround you these days.

You recognised the photo he posted as his profile picture.

'Yeah, I'd say yes to him too if I were her.'

A weird sort of cackling like that of an evil witch could be heard from the producer's room.

James had the urge to walk in and see what was going on until Juhoon stopped him.

"Probably Martin doing something weird again."

"It's better for our mental health to ignore him." Keonho added.

They all walk away from the door that lead to Martin's room to meet up with Seonghyeon.

Inside the room, Martin was laughing at the new little comment you left on his old post about getting his first girlfriend.

Congrats?

He couldn't wait until you scrolled past more to figure out what happened in the end.

He decides to stalk your account a little and is met with something he definitely wasn't expecting.

Oh.

You were much cooler than whatever he expected. And you had a decent amount of followers too it seemed.

'Vogue huh.'

'Perhaps a model? Or the editor?'

You'd casually post your daily life but he hadn't come across any of your photos yet.

It only made him more curious. And mischievous.

A little smirk appears on his face as he decides to give you a little surprise.

There was no way you were commenting all that without knowing he was still using this account.

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

Taglist : @soupysnoopy1 @taelvvrzz @lovemashu @cookyland @bakupakuu @mokkicchi @lenachp @rateater0369 @sweeetbabysblog @lasant0ss

a/n : there was a huge time gap between making part 2 and 3 cuz i lost motivation half way through. idk when I'll start posting this series. Hopefully after I've figured out the story till the end cuz im still confused and i really want this to do good haha.🫩🫩 (update : I still haven't figured the ending out)

[coconhovr]

ENTRY #01 𑣲 𝐉𝐔𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ㅤ───ㅤ quiet boy turns soft and clingy in private, finding home in your presence

★ boyfriend ! juhoon × fem!reader

fluff .ᐟ domestic intimacy .ᐟ quiet love

word count ── 2k

˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ── coco speaking here! as you can see i completely changed my post theme because i got tired of how bland my old on is 🥹 BUT I NEED TO WRITE MORE JUHOON BECAUSE HES JUST THE CUTEST!!! I LOVE HIM SM 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Of all the words people had used to describe Juhoon, clingy had never been one of them.

Chill, quiet, and observant. He had been the kind of guy who lingered at the edges of rooms, leaning back against cold walls with his hands tucked into his pockets.

His presence had never demanded attention, yet it always seemed to draw it anyway. Half-lidded eyes followed everything without seeming to try, and when he smiled, slow and restrained, it hit harder than anything loud ever could.

He wasn’t the type to talk just to fill space. Silence didn’t intimidate him; it fit him. He moved through the world at his own pace, unbothered by the chaos around him, perfectly fine on his own.

At least, that was how everyone saw him.

That was how you had seen him, too.

Before dating him rewrote everything you thought you understood.

Because once it was just the two of you, Juhoon had softened in ways no one else ever got to witness. 

It had started small.

So small that you hadn’t even realized it was happening.

The first time you were in his room, you’d been sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs crossed, absentmindedly kicking your foot as you talked.

His room had been quiet in that distinctly Juhoon way, with curtains half-drawn, the soft glow of late-afternoon light spilling across rumpled sheets, and the faint hum of traffic somewhere far below.

He’d been beside you, back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other resting loosely in his lap. Listening, even if his eyes weren’t on you.

You’d been halfway through a story about your day, your hands moving as you spoke and your voice animated without you even realizing it. You’d laughed at something you said, some small frustration, something that had annoyed you earlier, but felt lighter now that you were sharing it with him.

That was when you felt it.

A gentle shift of weight. Barely noticeable at first. His shoulder brushed yours, a soft, fleeting contact that could have been accidental. You didn’t stop talking right away. You’d assumed he was just adjusting, getting more comfortable.

But then he didn’t move away.

Instead, he leaned in just a fraction more, his shoulder settling fully against yours. The contact lingered, even if he hadn’t acknowledged it.

Juhoon didn’t look up from his phone.

He simply stayed there, close enough that you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing through your sleeve, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You kept talking, though your words had slowed, your attention split. Your body was suddenly aware of his in a way it hadn’t been before, of the heat of him, of how easily he fit there, tucked against your side as if he belonged.

A few minutes passed. Long enough for the moment to sink in.

Then his arm moved.

It slid around your waist slowly, like he wasn’t worried about startling you. His forearm rested lightly against your back, his hand settling just above your hip, fingers relaxed. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t pull you in abruptly. There was no possessiveness in the gesture, no urgency.

It felt more like instinct.

Like he was anchoring himself to you, grounding himself with your presence, quietly making sure you were still there.

Your sentence trailed off without you meaning for it to. The words faded into silence as your brain caught up to what was happening. You glanced down at his arm, at the way his hand rested against you so comfortably, like it had always belonged there.

You swallowed. “…Juhoon?”

“Mm?” he hummed in response, still scrolling on his phone.

You looked up at him this time, studying his face. His expression was calm, eyes half-lidded, attention split between the screen and you, like this closeness required no explanation at all.

“You’re… holding me,” you said. 

That finally got his attention.

He looked up, blinking once, then again, like he was only just registering his own actions. His gaze dropped briefly to his arm around you, then back to your face. A small, almost sheepish smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

For a moment, you thought he might pull away.

Instead, he asked, “Is that okay?”

Something in your chest softened instantly.

“Yeah,” you said immediately. “Of course.”

“Okay,” he replied, satisfied.

And then, just a little, his arm tightened. Not enough to trap you. Just enough to make it clear he’d heard you, that he was staying.

You leaned back into him without thinking, the rest of your story forgotten, and he let out a quiet breath against your hair, shoulders easing as something inside him had settled.

Juhoon hadn’t been clingy in public.

When you were out together, he’d kept a careful, almost deliberate distance. He walked beside you, never ahead, never lagging behind, always close enough that you were aware of him without feeling crowded.

Sometimes your hands brushed as you moved through doorways or crowded sidewalks. Sometimes his fingers hooked briefly around yours, just for a second or two, before he let go like it was an afterthought.

He stood near you when you talked to other people, his presence steady and grounding, but he never interrupted, never hovered.

To anyone watching, he was just a calm boyfriend, relaxed, observant, easygoing. The kind who listened more than he spoke. The kind who didn’t need to prove anything.

No one would have guessed what happened the moment you were alone.

Because the second the door closed behind you, something shifted.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no rush, no sudden urgency. Just a change in gravity, like he was finally allowed to lean into something he’d been holding back all day.

Before you even had time to set your bag down, you felt him there, arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest. His chin settled onto your shoulder, breath brushing your skin.

“Missed you,” he murmured, voice low and soft against your neck.

You’d smiled instantly, the tension of the day melting out of you as you sank back into him without thinking. “I was gone for, like, six hours.”

“Too long,” he’d replied simply.

You laughed at that, the sound light and tired, and he smiled into your skin, arms tightening just a little as if the laughter pleased him. Like he’d been waiting all day for that exact sound.

From that point on, he rarely left your side.

If you moved toward the kitchen, he followed without comment. You’d be chopping vegetables or stirring something on the stove, and suddenly he was there again, standing close behind you, arms circling your waist.

He rested his forehead between your shoulder blades or swayed gently with you, slow and unhurried, like he had nowhere else he needed to be. Sometimes his fingers traced absent patterns against your side, not demanding attention, just there.

If you shifted, he shifted with you.

If you sat on the couch, he gravitated toward you like it was instinct. He pressed in close, his legs tangled with yours, one arm draped around your shoulders while the other rested across your lap.

His head found your shoulder, or your chest, or your thighs, wherever felt right in the moment. If you leaned back, he adjusted. If you stretched out, he followed.

Sometimes he spoke, soft comments, quiet observations, the occasional teasing remark.

But most of the time, he didn’t say anything at all.

He just stayed.

He breathed you in, relaxed against you, eyes half-closed, like your presence alone was enough to quiet whatever noise the world had thrown at him that day. Like this closeness wasn’t something he asked for, it was something he claimed gently, confidently, because he trusted you with it.

One quiet evening, you had been curled up on his bed, knees drawn slightly to your chest as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. The room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a bedside lamp and the faint hum of the city outside his window.

Juhoon lay behind you, turned toward your back, close enough that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

His arm was draped loosely around your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He traced lazy, absentminded shapes against your stomach, circles, lines, little patterns that never quite repeated.

Over time, you felt him inch closer, his chest pressing more firmly into your back. The space between you disappeared entirely as he tucked himself against you, his forehead settling gently between your shoulder blades. The warmth of him seeped into you, steady and familiar.

“You comfortable?” you asked softly, breaking the quiet.

He nodded against you, the movement subtle, before nuzzling closer like he didn’t want to waste the effort of words. “Yeah,” he murmured.

His voice was quieter than usual, sleepy, content, stripped of any edge. You turned slightly in his arms so you could see his face, his eyes already half-lidded, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks.

“You’re really clingy when we’re alone,” you said lightly. “You know that, right?”

For a brief moment, he looked almost caught off guard. His ears flushed pink, and his lips pressed together in a shy, almost guilty smile. He glanced away before meeting your gaze again.

“I’m not clingy,” he replied, though there was barely any conviction behind it.

You raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t let go of me in the past hour.”

There was a pause. His grip tightened just slightly, as if he’d been exposed. “…I like being near you,” he admitted at last. “It just feels right.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest at his words. You reached up, brushing your thumb along his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your touch.

“I like it too,” you said.

His eyes softened instantly, the tension melting away as if it had never been there.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, slow and unhurried, like there was nowhere else he needed to be. His hand slid up your side, thumb brushing beneath your ribcage as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss just slightly before pulling back.

When he did, his forehead rested against yours.

“Good,” he murmured with a small smile.

Juhoon’s clinginess was never loud or demanding.

It showed itself in the smallest moments, in the way he reached for you the instant you sat down, as if his body reacted before his mind did. In the way his hand always found yours beneath blankets or tables, fingers lacing together without a word. When you were tired, he tucked you against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed slow, steady circles into your back, grounding you until your breathing evened out.

Sometimes, when you lay together in silence, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple for no reason at all. Sometimes he whispered, “Come here,” barely louder than a breath, just to pull you closer by an inch. And sometimes he fell asleep with his arms wrapped firmly around you, holding on like he might lose you if he didn’t.

One night, you woke up thirsty and carefully tried to slip out of his hold. Almost immediately, he stirred, half-awake, tightening his arms around you and pulling you back against his chest.

“Juhoon,” you whispered, amused. “I was just gonna get water.”

He buried his face in your hair, his grip tightening possessively. “After,” he muttered.

You laughed softly, your chest warm and full. “You’re unbelievable.”

He hummed in response, already drifting back to sleep. “Love you,” he mumbled, the words instinctive and unguarded.

Your heart swelled painfully at the sound.

“I love you too,” you whispered, letting yourself relax back into his arms, knowing he’d still be there when morning came.

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