In which your period gets the better of you, and Martin thinks you look like sad glorp when you cry?
MARTIN EDWARDS X FEM!READER (1.4k words) — established relationship, period & blood mentions, hurt comfort, martin calls reader baby, my love, and mama, lowkey very down bad and mushy behavior on both ends lol.
⋆˚꩜｡ dae’s note : and i DO have to write a period related fic every time im on mine! i need martin 😞 ALSO i cannot for the life of me figure out what artist the glorp art is from so if anyone happens to know please tell me so i can add credit 🥹
⊹ ࣪ ˖ requests open for cortis ! i write headcannons, one-shots, text fics, and love to represent for my plus-sized readers. feel free to send requests, thoughts, or simply chat! <3
dividers from @pixopix !!
Martin said you were going out for dinner.
Just dinner, you thought.
He knew you started your period, and you’d already expressed that you’re feeling it this time around. It wasn’t just occasional cramps and the inconvenience of bleeding, it was severe, constant pains, fatigue, a lingering headache, nausea, and your moods being all over the place. You weren’t feeling your greatest, to put it lightly.
So, when he brought up stopping at a store you guys frequent, you reluctantly agreed. You could do one store, and it did sound nice, but you had your mind set already. Get food, go home, take a long shower, and pass the fuck out, to hopefully sleep off some of the pain.
After the first stop, he suggested another. You should have said no. He wouldn’t have been mad, or even disappointed. In fact, he’d have been more than content to get dinner and head home, but he assumed some shopping might make you feel better. He loves spoiling you, and if it would make your day better, why would he not?
Not to mention, you and him regularly go “lurking” as you’ve come to call it. It’s always spontaneous, usually the same spots, and even after going multiple times a month, you never seem to get bored of it. Maybe it’s just because you’re doing it together. It’s familiar, and just domestic enough to not be draining.
Given your state of discomfort, though, you simply weren’t in the mood. You were under the impression that Martin specifically wanted to make the stops, not necessarily that he was doing it to try and put a little pep in your step.
Which is why you powered through. If he wanted to go to the various stores, you didn’t want to stop him from having fun just because you felt like shit…but then the pain relievers you took started wearing off.
By the time Martin was suggesting another store, you were overheating, cramping, tired, and damn near starving.
You snapped at him. It wasn’t cruel, just a harshly spoken “I thought we were getting food.”
Martin blinked, eyes flicking up from his phone screen—where he was likely finding directions to that next stop—to meet your gaze.
He stared at you for a long moment, clearly taken aback. Yet, he simply nodded, and with a simple, “Let’s get food, baby,” started the car and began towards the restaurant you both had picked.
Martin moved on fast. He didn’t take it personally, and somehow, that made you feel worse than you had already felt about snapping at him.
It wasn’t like you’d been seriously mean, but the way he looked at you kept replaying in your head. You weren’t sure if he actually looked that pitiful, or if your brain had contorted it to be a hundred times worse as a reflection of your guilt, but either way, you felt terrible for it.
You’d already been extra irritable and sensitive the last few days. You woke up to your period, which only seemed to further push your buttons. The cherry on top was letting your emotional state get the best of you.
Which is why, by the time Martin pulls up to your house, you’re in tears.
“Text me when you— Baby.”
Martin says the petname with such tenderness, it makes your heart squeeze its way into your throat, choking you up even worse.
“What’s wrong, my love?” He asks, reaching out to take your hands in his, his brows furrowed with worry.
A broken laugh mangled with a pitiful sob escapes your lips, and Martin frowns deeply as he lifts his hands to wipe your tears, cupping your cheeks.
“I feel so bad,” you manage to cry out, bawling in the passenger seat of his car, “I was mean to you—“ You sob, sniffling as his thumbs caress your wet cheeks.
“You didn’t do anything wrong and I was just overwhelmed because I feel so gross and my cramps are so bad and—“
Martin listens intently, despite your jumbled and choked out words. You curl into his touch, letting his hands support your head, and he gently guides you to lean over the console, placing your head against his chest. It’s not the most convenient position, but it’s good enough for the time being.
When your words morph into sobs, he shakes his head slightly, rubbing his thumbs against your skin.
“Baby, my love, mamas, you were not mean,” he assures you, rubbing your back in big circles, his free hand lingering on your face. “You’re not feeling good. It’s okay — and, like, you’re on your period. That’s a perfectly valid reason to be more sensitive. I get it….matter of fact, I don’t, because I don’t get periods, but you know what I mean,” he laughs at himself, and your lips threaten to curve into a smile, just because he’s such a dork sometimes.
“I’m sorry,” You sniffle, sighing shakily at the feeling of his lips on your head.
“Don’t be sorry,” he muses with a shake of his head. He holds you there for a long moment, car idling outside of your house.
“…Don’t want you to go home,” You mumble after a few minutes of silence, pulling back to look up at him.
He looks down at you, wiping your eyes once more. “Want me to stay the night?” He asks quietly, voice a soothing hum.
You nod, the pitiful look on your face making his heart ache because how can you be so cute?
Martin has grown familiar with your bedroom, and your house in general, so he makes himself comfortable while you shower.
He’s sprawled across your bed when you come back into the room, his eyes half lidded with sleep as a youtube video plays quietly on your tv.
“Feel better?” he asks lowly, blinking a few times to wake himself up. You sigh, tossing your dirty clothes into your laundry basket, before crawling onto the bed with him.
“Head hurts. Sleepy. Cramps.” You sit on your knees next to him, resting a hand on his abdomen.
He hums sympathetically, reaching out to gently rub your arm. “Going through it today, aren’t you, mama?” He asks, smiling knowingly at your sad little nod.
“S’ okay, baby,” he gently grips your hand, guiding you to lay down with him. You hook your leg over his hip, his hand finds your thigh like it always does, and he wraps his other arm loosely around your back, while yours drapes over his chest.
He kisses your head, then your forehead, then your lips, when you tilt your head up at him. The kiss is soft and sweet, a silent reassurance that he’s got you, that he gets it.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” you mumble against his lips, and when he pulls back, you look like you’re about to burst into tears all over again.
He smiles slightly, sighing fondly. “Even though you don’t have to be, I accept your apology,” he murmurs promisingly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
When he looks down at you again, his smile grows, like it always does when he’s being cheeky. “You look like sad glorp,” he teases quietly.
“Sad glorp?” You echo, with a sappy little laugh that makes his chest hurt.
“Yeah,” he chuckles lowly, rubbing his hand up and down the length of your thigh. “You look cute,” he adds, making you roll your eyes.
You don’t feel cute. In fact, you feel ridiculous for various reasons, but you do feel loved, and that is something you cherish wholeheartedly. Something Martin has always managed to make you feel, and feel it sincerely.
“I love you so much,” you mumble, eyes watering as an overwhelming wave of emotion washes over you, making your throat tighten, and your eyes burn.
“Oh my gosh,” Martin laughs breathily. He’s not mad at you for being emotional. If anything, he’s so utterly endeared to you, that seeing you like this is near intolerable. How is such a miserable being—in this moment—going to look this precious?
“You’re adorable. I love you more,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “Come here, mama,” he whispers lovingly, as a tear rolls down your cheek. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms snugly around you.
the concept of writing a period comfort fic about crashing out due to feeling like shit because of your period and then falling asleep while writing just to wake up because you had a nightmare.
Shutting people out feels easier than opening up, most of the time. It feels safer, more controlled—yet, that doesn’t make it the smarter option. Especially not when your boyfriend not only cares about you, but knows how you work, and has learned your patterns.
CORTIS OT5 x GN!READER — established relationships, angst, anxiety & spiraling mentions, depressive themes, hurt-comfort.
⋆˚꩜｡ dae’s note : i’ve been having such a hard time finding my groove with writing lately, so she’s a little short 🥹 i’m in my feelings though—shoutout period hormones—so here we are! also, first official fic on this account, who cheered? 😝 PLEASE SEND ME MARTIN REWUESTS I AM BEGGING ON A BENDED KNEE
⊹ ࣪ ˖ requests open for cortis ! i write headcannons, one-shots, text fics, and love to represent for my plus-sized readers. feel free to send requests, thoughts, or simply chat! <3
୨ৎ MARTIN is compassionate. He’s very in tune with you, your emotions, something that’s come along with your connection to him, so you shutting him out is hard for him to handle.
When you shut him out, he tries to be rational, not pushy: maybe you need space. Maybe you’ll open up to him soon. Maybe him pushing and prying would do more harm than good.
However, he can only take that for so long, especially because I feel like Martin’s someone who would really value being open and honest in his relationship. He wants to be your safe space, and would want to be with someone he feels safe with.
Which is why he is probably going to be the quickest to try and break down whatever walls you build up. He reminds you that he’s there for you, and firmly so.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. If you need time, that’s okay, but I just want you to know i’m always here for you.”
୨ৎ JAMES takes mental health very serious. He always encourages you to feel how you need to feel and do what’s best for you. So, he’d initially assume you need the space, some time for yourself, and let you breathe. It’s when it lasts longer than he expected. A few days of short replies and radio silence is fine, but when it draws out for more than a week? He’s worried.
I think his way of taking care of you is subtle—not too much or too little—but meaningful gestures. He’ll stop by, bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, give you a good, long hug, a sweet kiss, and let you decide if he’s staying or going.
He’s consistent, not persistent. He doesn’t push, but he keeps his support steady and available. Which is why he’s there with open arms, ready to listen when you do let your walls back down.
“Do whatever you need to do, but don’t think I don’t care or worry, when something’s wrong.”
୨ৎ In a similar fashion to James, JUHOON thinks you just need space. However, Juhoon is also a softie, in my humble opinion, so he freaks out more than he’d let on.
Especially given his calm demeanor, he might worry he gave you the wrong impression at some point. Maybe his response wasn’t enthusiastic enough, or maybe he worded something wrong, or maybe—
I doubt he’d talk to anyone about it, at least not right off the bat. When his emotions are high, while he can express feeling that way, he probably has a hard time finding the words to explain why.
So, he gives you space, but he checks in often. Your short responses and dim demeanor are the bane of his existence in that moment. However, he is patient. He gives you time without letting you slip too far away.
“I try to be casual about this stuff, but I was so worried about you. I’ll give you all the time you need, but I’m always here for you.”
୨ৎ SEONGHYEON cares a lot. More than he lets on, given his usual suave, playful demeanor. He’s not quick to worry, or even notice the shift, because he always trusts that you’ll come to him when you need it, but he had never considered you pulling away.
When it does become apparent, he’d be upfront. He’s not aggressive with his confrontation, just worried, concerned. Had he done something? Had something completely unrelated to him happened? He just wants to be let in, because how is he supposed to help otherwise?
Though, I could also see Seonghyeon being the type to also distance himself from you. He might get in his head about it, even if he tries not to and usually wouldn’t. That doesn’t last for long, though.
He can probably give you space without over-worrying himself about the reasoning, but he fixates on what he could do to make it better.
“Just be honest with me. I can take it, whatever it is, but I won’t know how to help if you don’t let me know what’s going on.”
୨ৎ KEONHO takes it the worst. I say this because of that clip where Juhoon said Keonho would sulk if he picked Seonghyeon over him, and granted that wasn’t like super serious, but my point stands. Whereas Martin gets worried about you, Keonho spirals about what he’s done wrong, and how he can fix it. He would be more than willing to acknowledge his wrongs if it meant stopping you from distancing yourself from him. Keonho likely confides in others. Ironically, I can see him talking to Martin in particular, just because I feel like Martin is an emotionally intelligent person, without being as “intimidating” as James.
Keonho lowkey begs you to talk to him, and asks if he’s done anything wrong, as well as constantly reminds you that he will do anything to make it better.
“Don’t push me out, please. You’re everything to me, you know that? I don’t want to be overbearing, but I can’t handle this.”
in which your neighbor is lowkey cute. eom seonghyeon x fem!reader.
dae’s note: the concept of every cortis request i’ve gotten thus far being for seonghyeon is iconic. i see yall 🤞 ty for requesting!! divider from @saradika-graphics <3
ᓚᘏᗢ — REQUESTS OPEN FOR ENHYPEN, &TEAM, and CORTIS ! I write text fics, one-shots, headcannons, and blurbs. See my pinned post for more info and works! <3
Just Seonghyeon as the boy next door. Your parents are skeptical of him, oblivious to the fact that he’s stealing your attention on a nightly basis.
Not to be cliche, but he’s the type to throw things at your window, until you open your blinds. When you do, he’s already grinning at you, from within his warmly lit bedroom, because he knew it was only a matter of time.
You scolded him the first time he did this. How would you explain the random pens and other miscellaneous items landing on the ground outside of your window? Not to mention, you were pretty sure your parents would be disturbed by him shouting from his window, which would have been even harder to explain. You remember vividly his shy grin and polite apology, before he asked for your number instead…y’know, to avoid alerting your parents.
You gave it to him, because how could you not?
It’s a nightly routine, now. He throws random items at your window—which he always picks up the following morning—until you acknowledge him, then texts you until you’re both agreeing that you’ve stayed up too late.
you can just text me instead of throwing shit at my window, you know?
can’t see my girl through texts, can i?
calling me your girl, but you haven’t taken me on a date 🤨
do you want me to take you on one?
do you want to take me on one?
You look up. He’s grinning at his phone, rolling his eyes playfully at the back and forth. You bite back your own smile, tilting your head curiously at him when he looks up and catches your gaze.
A small smirk spreads across his lips, bordering a sincere grin. He looks back down to his phone, typing out his response.
i’d love nothing more than to take you on a date. you free tomorrow?
Despite the seemingly smooth message, you don’t miss the way he bites his lip nervously as he types, chewing anxiously as his eyes flick between you and the phone.
He’s cute.
yeah i’m free <3
Seonghyeon who goes from boy-next-door-who’s-lowkey-cute to your boyfriend who insists on keeping your little routine going, even after you start dating.
It’s the same, but different, because instead of texting, he’s crawling through your window with too wide of a grin, grabbing you by the waist as soon as he’s inside.
He kisses you the same every time. Soft, but not to be underestimated in its passion. The kind of kiss that gives you butterflies every time and has you humiliatingly chasing his lips.
“You look cute,” he mumbles, grinning at you as your arms stay wrapped around his shoulders, his hands gently gliding up and down your sides.
“Shut up,” you mumble back, lifting your hand to rake your fingers through his silky brown hair.
“Whatever my girl wants,” he shrugs, leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss.
I saw you asking for cortis request and I was wondering if you could do a seonghyeon or James x reader where they’re ex’s and they yearn for yn? 🥹 (I’ve never sent a request so if this sounds stupid plz bare with me 😭)
✮⋆˙ BACK TO FRIENDS !
I’m holding on too tight while you let go. This is casual. How can we go back to being friends, when we just shared a bed? How can you look at me and pretend i’m someone you never met?
ZHAO YUFAN x GN!READER — text+written, angst in which your ex bf can’t move on after your breakup.
dae’s note: your request doesn’t sound stupid at all! sending requests is lowkey scary for no reason, but i promise you should not fret 😚 i also decided to leave this kind of open ended because that’s fun, and if we do wanna see a second part 👀 also feel like this might not be my best writing (not to be THAT guy) but i still hope you enjoy!!
ᓚᘏᗢ — REQUESTS OPEN FOR &TEAM and CORTIS ! I write text fics, one-shots, headcannons, blurbs, and love to represent for my plus sized girlies. See my pinned post for more info and works! <3
James’ laugh echoes through the space in your bedroom. His smile is lazy, and his eyes are half-lidded, gazing at you with a fondness reserved just for you.
“This one, maybe?” You hold up a dress, draping it against your body. James hums, but his eyes stay on yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” He mutters, holding your gaze.
“You’re not even being helpful,” You huff, skin warming as your heart rate jumps up due to his words, his subtle advances that have come more frequently in recent days.
“Sorry,” James shrugs, as he reaches out, once you set the dress aside, and gently pulls you closer. He guides you to stand between his legs, his arms wrapped snug around your hips as he looks up at you, admiring you.
“You have to stop looking at me like that,” You scold, with no real bite, as you gently cup his face in your hands.
“Can’t help it,” he mutters. “I think i’m falling in love with you,” He adds, and if it were in any other moment, you’d have thought he was playing, but right now? In the intimacy of your bedroom, while he holds you like this, when he’s been staring you down all night? You doubt he’s playing.
He wasn’t playing. James was irrevocably in love with you. He still is, even considering your state of separation. You remember it all in a blur. From spending every day, all day together, to texting non stop when you were apart, to texting here and there, hanging out when you could, to feeling like he wasn’t even your boyfriend.
James has always been deeply passionate. About dance, about music, about everything and anything he loves. When working became his passion, you were unintentionally put on the back burner — James didn’t mean for that to happen. He hadn’t realized how many times he could have pushed off practice or chose to spend the night with you instead of spending his time at the studio.
It crushed you, because he was so, so very adoring at first. So loving, so doting. Like you were the only thing that existed. You knew that couldn’t last forever, but you didn’t anticipate for the change to be so drastic. You told yourself he was busy,—and given, he was—told yourself that it would get better.
When it didn’t, you broke.
Things got tense, and you know now that part of that was on you. You avoided telling him you were unhappy, that you felt invisible to him half the time. In fact, you put on the most supportive you could; you wanted him to do what he loved, to spend his time how he wanted. You hoped he’d choose you, but maybe thinking of it as choices was unfair to him, expecting him to choose between his two biggest loves.
You thought breaking up would be better for both of you. He wouldn’t have the weight of your expectations on his shoulders—though, if you’d have told him how you felt, maybe he’d have carried that weight willingly—and you wouldn’t constantly be let down when he fell short.
Meanwhile, the breakup came as a shock to James. He knew he was focused on work, but he didn’t realize how deeply it was affecting you. He missed you all the time, but he felt like there was always more to practice, always more to do— and sure, there is always more, but perhaps that’s exactly why he should have thought sooner to put that specific passion on the back burner.
He could always practice. He could always go to the studio. Evidently, he can’t always spend time with you, given the breakup; you’re not his anymore.
He knew the TikTok was silly, but he also saw it a subtle way to catch your attention…until you blocked him on everything, safe from text messages. Which, he was grateful for that, to at least have some way of talking to you, and couldn’t blame you for blocking him. It was stupid.
When he came to pick up his things—clothes, physical gifts, like the lego bouquet he made you for valentine’s day, a cologne he left at your house months ago—it was tense. Awkward.
He thought about trying to talk, then, but he could see it all over your face. You’d lock him out the second he reached for the door handle, metaphorically speaking.
So, he left it. Reluctantly.
He felt desperate when he texted you, telling you that you could always talk to him. He was desperate. You opened up to him easier than he expected you to, which he couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Either you felt more comfortable, or that would be your last time opening up to him like that. Like a conclusion to a long chapter.
So, he put it all on the line, too. If he’d had understood sooner, if you had let him in before you broke, he would have done everything he possibly could have to save your relationship.
He meant it when he said he was falling in love with you. He meant every kiss, every touch, every petname, every date, and to this day, he looks at you with nothing but the love he’s always felt for you.
It might be worse now, honestly, given the fact that you aren’t his now.
It’s not just the fact that you’re reluctant to even talk things out, James finds. It’s also the fact that he is still so, so deeply in love with you.
STARRING BF!MARTIN EDWARDS X FEM!READER you’re sick? bf!martin is here to save the day! (in honor of me being sick as FUCK right now!)
“So, I called my mom—“
“Martin,” you barely manage a laugh, despite your genuine amusement. Your head is throbbing, your hearing is muffled, your throat hurts, your whole body aches; you don’t recall the last time you’d gotten this sick.
He almost grins, but his expression softens with concern when he sees the hint of a smile fade from your lips. He can tell, just by the way you look, that you’re struggling.
With a soft sigh, he cups your cheek and rubs his thumb over your skin, looking down at you. You’re sitting on your couch, wrapped in a blanket — the comforter from your bed, since you’d only moved into the living room to greet Martin when he arrived.
He leans down and presses a cautious kiss to your head, before he sits down in front of you, on the floor, and arranges the bags of groceries he got.
“Stuff for soup,” he gestures to one bag, that he pushes aside, then grabs a different one. “So, we got ginger and honey tea—“ he goes on an unnecessary ramble about what his mom said, one that you can only half pay attention to in your sickly state.
He honestly outdid himself, you realize, as he shows you everything, though. Teas, soup, fruits, comfort foods, some treats for when you feel better — Martin never fails to show how much he genuinely cares, with little things like this.
“You didn’t have to do any of this, Martin,” you murmur, after he shows you the last item, and he shakes his head dismissively.
“None of that,” he looks up at you and reaches for your hand. “I wanted to do it, and even if for some crazy reason I didn’t want to, you deserve to be taken care of all the time. Even when you’re not sick,” he assures you.
You nod slowly, squeezing his hand.
“…I feel like shit,” you murmur honestly, sighing as he shifts onto his knees and wraps his arms around your blanket-clad form, hugging you tightly.
“I know, baby,” he muses softly, rubbing your back. “How about we get you back in bed, and then maybe i’ll come out here and whip up that soup, hm? Got the recipe from my mom — I used to fuck that shit up when I was a kid.”
You can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Can the soup wait a little bit? I just…want you with me,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.
He smiles to himself, nodding in response. “Sure, mama. The soup can wait.”
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