it had never been official which was the funniest part of it all. there had never been a conversation where either of you asked, “what are we?”. you didn't celebrate an anniversary, never been matching profile pictures, never been introduced as boyfriend and girlfriend. he was just sohee. he was the person who called you when he couldn’t sleep, who showed up at your apartment at one in the morning because he “didn’t want to be alone,” who knew how you took your coffee, and knew what songs you skipped every time they came on in the car. he held your hand when the streets were crowded, kissed you like it was instinct whenever the two of you were alone, and looked at you with enough love to convince anyone watching that he loved you.
whenever anyone asked what the two of you were he always laughed before saying, “we’re just close friends.” it was always just friends. you had swallowed that word so many times it stopped clawing at your throat and hurting on the way down. eventually it settled somewhere deep inside your chest. it was heavy enough that you almost forgot it was there until somebody else reminded you. friends asked if you were dating constantly, your family wondered why he came around so often, and strangers assumed the two of you were together whenever you went out. every single time he smiled that easy smile and brushed it off with a casual, “nah,” before you even had the chance to answer. just one word was enough to make you feel stupid.
the worst part was that he would come over that very same night, climb into your bed like he belonged there, tuck his face into your neck, and mumble that he had missed you. he always wanted everything a boyfriend got. he wanted the late night phone calls, the sex and making out, your shoulder to sleep on after a bad day, and someone to celebrate every little achievement with him. he just never wanted to be your boyfriend.
every time you tried to pull away he noticed almost immediately. if you took a little longer to answer his texts suddenly he was blowing up your phone. if you stopped asking him to hang out he somehow always found himself “in your neighborhood.” “you’re acting weird,” he’d tell you like he was confused and like your reaction had appeared out of nowhere instead of being built from every disappointment he’d handed you over the last three years.
you wanted to laugh every single time he said it. he acted as if you were expected to sit patiently while he decided which version of you he wanted that day. some days you were the first person he called the second he woke up. he’d spend hours in your apartment doing absolutely nothing, his head resting in your lap while you mindlessly played with his hair. he would tell you stories that no one else got to hear. he’d kiss you absentmindedly whenever you handed him something or pulled you into his side without even thinking about it. then there were the other days where he’d disappear for forty eight hours without so much as a text.
those days were always the hardest. you would stare at your phone longer than you cared to admit as you convinced yourself you weren’t waiting for a notification. eventually he’d come back like nothing had happened and ask if you were awake. if you made the mistake of asking where he’d been he’d let out an exaggerated sigh before shaking his head. “why are you making this into something?” he’d ask.
you didnt want to tell him it was because it was something. maybe not to him but it had been something to you for a very long time. you had spent almost three years loving somebody who refused to admit there was anything to love when it came to you. somewhere along the way you learned to stop asking questions because every conversation somehow ended with you apologizing instead. if you wanted reassurance, you were needy. if you wanted clarity, you were overthinking. and if you dared to get upset, you were dramatic. eventually you decided silence hurt less than hearing him make you feel guilty for wanting things that should have been normal.
then came whoever that girl was. you never cared for her name.
you didn’t hear about her from him. that probably should have been the first sign. instead you saw them together before he ever bothered mentioning her name. they weren’t doing anything you hadn’t done with him hundreds of times before. he was carrying her bag and reached over to brush a strand of hair away from her face after it got caught in her lip gloss. when she said something too quietly for him to hear he leaned down with that familiar little smile, the one that used to make your stomach twist itself into knots. he looked happy. there wasn’t any hesitation in the way he looked at her. he looked comfortable, almost proud to be standing beside her in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could see.
you stood across the street until the light changed. he never noticed you. that night your phone buzzed just after midnight. his name lit up the screen followed by a simple message asking, “you awake?” you stared at it until the brightness dimmed on its own. for a second you considered ignoring him completely but your fingers moved before your brain could stop them. instead of answering the question you typed, “weren’t you busy?”
the typing bubble appeared almost immediately. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
you looked at the screen for another long moment before replying with a single word. “nothing.”
another bubble.
“don’t start.”
you couldn’t help laughing under your breath as you read it. like you were the one who kept lighting the match. like every fight hadn’t started with him pretending there wasn't a problem. you locked your phone without answering and for the first time in a very long time you let him sit with the silence.
days passed before you mentioned her again to him.
the two of you were sitting across from each other in your favorite café, the one where the employees had stopped asking whether your orders were together because they assumed they always would be. he was stirring his iced coffee absentmindedly whole scrolling through something on his phone before looking up with a shrug, “she’s cool." you only hummed, refusing to give him the reaction he was looking for. he watched you for another second before adding, “i think i like her.”
your hand froze around your cup for the briefest moment before you forced yourself to nod. “that’s nice. you deserve happiness.” he frowned immediately. “that’s it?” you looked up at him, meeting his eyes without giving away anything you were feeling. “what did you want me to say?”
he didn’t answer because what could he possibly say?
he wanted you jealous? he wanted you to ask who she was, whether she’d be better than you, whether he liked her more? did he want the comfort of knowing you would still be there if things with her didn’t work out? you had always been there before every time he disappeared. you were always waiting exactly where he had left you.
what he didn’t expect was for something inside you to finally snap.
there wasn’t a dramatic argument or some huge betrayal that changed everything overnight. there wasn't anything loud. it was more like a death by a thousand cuts. somewhere between watching him smile at someone else and hearing him tell you he thought he liked her you realized you were exhausted. you weren't heartbroken and not even surprised anymore. you were just tired.
after that conversation you stopped answering his messages the second they came in. you stopped cancelling plans whenever he suddenly decided he wanted to see you. you stopped sitting around wondering when he’d text.
you stopped waiting for him entirely and it drove him insane.
the first day he sent two messages.
the second day he sent seven.
by the end of the week your phone buzzed almost constantly with him asking where you were, whether you were busy, why you hadn’t answered, if you were upset with him, if he’d done something wrong. every few hours another notification lit up your screen, each one sounding a little more pathetic and impatient than the last.
you answered none of them. the silence unsettled him more than any argument ever had. he wasn’t used to not having access to you. he wasn’t used to texting first. he definitely wasn’t used to wondering whether you would answer.
so naturally he showed up at your apartment.
you almost laughed when you opened the door and found him standing there holding two coffees like he hadn’t spent the last week slowly losing his mind over text because you stopped revolving around him. he smiled the second he saw you. it was almost like in his brain everything between you both had magically fixed itself the moment you answered the door.
“you’ve been ignoring me,” he said. you leaned against the doorframe before answering with a simple, “yeah.” his smile twitched. “… yeah?”
“yeah.”
it took another second for the grin to disappear completely. “why?” instead of answering right away you stepped outside and quietly pulled the apartment door shut behind you. you didn’t want this conversation inside. you didn’t want him sitting on your couch and somehow getting into your bed like every other argument. crossing your arms you looked at him for a long moment before asking, “why do you care?”
his eyebrows pulled together almost instantly. “what kind of question is that?”
“an easy one.”
he stared at you like you’d asked something ridiculous before letting out a quiet laugh. “obviously i care.”
“why?”
his mouth opened. then closed. he looked down for a second before trying again but nothing came out. finally, almost awkwardly, he shrugged, "... because.” you nearly laughed. after two years 'because' was all he had. you nodded slowly before looking away. “right,” you murmured. “that’s what i thought.” he reached toward you automatically. before his fingers could brush yours you stepped back. he froze. the expression on his face almost made you feel guilty.
almost.
his hand slowly dropped back to his side before he frowned. “what’s your problem lately?” for a long moment you simply looked at him. you noticed the confusion on his face and the irritation beginning to settle in around his eyes. most importantly you noticed the expectation that eventually you would cave like you always had before. finally you answered, “you.”
he blinked, “what?”
“you’re my problem.”
he stared at you, “… i don’t understand.”
you nodded once., “i know you don’t.” his jaw tightened, "then explain it.” you held his gaze for another few seconds before slowly shaking your head. “i’ve been explaining it for three years.” his eyes rolled before you had even finished speaking, “you’re doing that thing again.” you tilted your head, “what thing?”
“making everything deeper than it is.”
for a second all you could do was stare at him. then you laughed. not because anything was funny but because if you didn’t laugh you thought you might actually scream. the sound came out sharp enough that even you barely recognized it. “deeper than it is?” you repeated, shaking your head. “that’s rich coming from the guy who wanted me to act like his girlfriend until someone asked what i was.”
the words hit harder than you expected and he looked away. he always looked away whenever the conversation stopped going the way he wanted it to. whenever there was something real sitting between the two of you, something uncomfortable that couldn’t be laughed off or brushed aside. he’d suddenly become fascinated by anything except you. anything was easier than looking at the person he’d spent three years convincing to settle for half of what she deserved. after a long silence he finally sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “we’ve talked about this.” you almost smiled before quietly correcting him, "no. i talked about it. you avoided it.”
his shoulders tensed, “it’s not that simple.”
“isn’t it?”
he let out another dramatic sigh, dragging both hands down his face, “why do you always need labels?”. you wondered if he heard himself. you stared at him in complete disbelief before asking, “are you serious?” he frowned. “yes.”
“you think this is about labels?”
“then what’s it about?”
instead of answering right away you took one slow step toward him. you stopped once you were close enough that he couldn’t pretend not to hear you anymore. “it’s about the fact that you wanted every single part of me without ever having to choose me,” you said, watching his expression carefully. when he didn’t respond you continued anyway. “it’s about the fact that every time i started pulling away suddenly you remembered i existed.” he stayed completely silent so you finished the thought yourself. “it’s about the fact that you liked me most when you thought i wasn’t going anywhere.”
the silence that followed answered the question for him. you watched something shift behind his eyes. it wasn’t guilt. it looked more like discomfort. he had finally been forced to hear something he’d spent years pretending wasn’t true. you nodded once before quietly saying, “that’s what i thought.” he instinctively reached toward you again but your voice stopped him before he could get close. “don’t.” his hand froze halfway between the two of you before slowly dropping back to his side. you took another small step away and looked at him without an ounce of hesitation. “don’t touch me.” his face hardened almost immediately. “… you’re overreacting.”
his favorite sentence. the one he’d use every single time you cried. every single time you questioned him. every single time you admitted he’d hurt you. somehow every conversation always ended with him convincing you that your feelings were bigger than the problem itself. it was as if your emotions only existed because you imagined them and every issue between the two of you had only started because of your imaginary feelings. something inside you went completely still when he said it this time. the sadness disappeared and so did the disappointment. even the hurt seemed to melt away and all that remained in its wake was anger.
you let out a soft laugh before looking back at him. “that’s your favorite thing to say.” he frowned. “because you are.” “no.” you slowly shook your head. “i’ve actually been underreacting for three years.” he scoffed. “seriously?” “yeah,” you answered calmly. “seriously.” your voice never rose and that seemed to frustrate him more. you could tell he wanted tears and emotion. he wanted something he could point to later and call dramatic. instead you stood there looking almost peaceful as you told him, “i let you convince me i was asking for too much every single time i wanted respect.”
he immediately tried to interrupt. “i-"
“no.”
the single word stopped him completely. your voice came out sharper this time, leaving absolutely no room for him to force another excuse into the conversation. “you’re going to listen for once.” he stared at you looking almost offended by the idea. “you made me feel guilty every single time i asked where we stood,” you continued. the second he tried to speak again with a quiet, “i wasn’t-" you cut him off without hesitation, “stop.”
“you wanted me loyal while you stayed available.”
“that’s not what happened.”
“that is exactly what happened.”
he let out one short and bitter laugh before shaking his head. “you’re twisting everything.” “am i?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “then tell me what i’m twisting.” he opened his mouth but nothing came out. you waited another second before quietly prompting him again. “go ahead.” his eyes drifted away from yours.
“tell me which part isn’t true.”
another silence.
finally, barely above a whisper he muttered, “i never said i didn’t care about you.” you simply nodded, “that’s the problem.” he frowned. “what?” “you cared," your arms crossed over your chest. he blinked once before quietly answering, “… yeah.”
“just enough.”
confusion spread across his face almost instantly, “what does that even mean?” you never looked away from him as you answered, “you cared enough to keep me.” before he could respond you spoke again, "you cared enough to text me whenever you were lonely and you cared enough to kiss me. you cared enough to crawl into my bed whenever life got hard.” there was silence between you both for a beat. “but you never cared enough to actually choose me.”
he swallowed hard before trying one last time, “that’s not-"
“don’t.”
he immediately fell silent again. “you don’t get to rewrite history because i’m finally leaving," it took everything in you to not yell.
for the first time since you’d met him he looked nervous. after a long pause he admitted, “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”
you gave him a tired smile, “i actually believe you." his eyebrows lifted in surprise, "you do?”
“yeah. i don’t think you meant to.” you watched relief slowly settle across his face and for a brief second he looked like he thought he’d finally found something that could fix this. then you finished, “i just don’t think you cared enough not to.”
the relief disappeared instantly. hurting you had never been his goal it had just never been important enough for him to stop. neither of you spoke for a long time after that. the city carried on around you like nothing had happened. the world kept moving while the two of you stood perfectly still, staring at the wreckage of something that had never even been given a name. he swallowed hard before asking, “… so that’s it?” you nodded once before quietly answering, “that’s it.” he searched your face for something but there was nothing left to find. after another long silence he let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “you’re just … throwing everything away?”
“everything?” you repeated. “what exactly am i throwing away sohee?” he stared at you for several seconds before answering in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “us.” the word hung in the air between you. neither of you moved. shaking your head you murmured, “that’s funny.” his eyebrows pulled together immediately. “what’s funny?” you looked at him like you couldn’t quite believe what you’d just heard, “now we have an us?” you asked quietly. he didn’t answer because he couldn’t. every time you tried to define whatever existed between you he’d told you that you were making things complicated. now, suddenly, there was an us only because he was about to lose it. you watched the realization settle across his face as he remembered every conversation he’d shut down, every question he’d dodged, every time he’d made you feel ridiculous for wanting clarity. he took a small step toward you before quietly saying, “listen-" “no,” you cut in before he could finish. he stopped where he was. after a brief pause he tried again. “just let me explain.” "explain what?" you asked.
“everything.”
“there’s nothing left to explain.”
“there is.”
you slowly shook your head. “no. there isn’t.” “please,” he said quietly. “just let me finish.” your expression never changed as you looked back at him. “finish what?” you asked. “the conversation you should’ve had three years ago?” you watched him struggle to find the words before quietly asking, “or are you finally going to tell me i’m enough now that i’m leaving?” his eyes dropped to the ground. you already had your answer. after rubbing both hands over his face he looked back up at you with a voice quieter than you’d ever heard before, “can we at least … be friends?”
the question hit you harder than everything else he’d said combined. after every kiss and every night he’d spent wrapped around you. friends. you stared at him for so long that he shifted uncomfortably beneath your gaze, “no.” his face fell almost immediately. “… no?” you slowly nodded your head before answering, “no.” he swallowed hard, “you’re really serious.”
“for the first time in a long time.”
he looked like he wanted to argue. the frustration finally returned to his face. he let out a bitter laugh before muttering, “you’ll regret this.” you looked at him for a long moment, “see?” he frowned, “what?” “even now,” you said quietly, “you still think i’m the one losing something.” for the first time this whole conversation he understood you weren’t bluffing. you weren’t waiting for him to chase you. this wasn’t another fight. this was goodbye.
you held his gaze for one final second before quietly saying, “goodbye, sohee.”
he didn’t move but you did. you walked back into your apartment without looking back and for the first time since you’d met him you didn’t pause because you expected him to reach for your hand. your name broke the silence once but you didn’t stop. he called it again, louder this time, desperation bleeding into every syllable behind your closed apartment door. for the first time in two years he was the one being left behind.
I don’t know what this is I just know its my type…I want this typa guy can’t a girl dream
i just feel like I’m too opposite so this typa guy won’t approach me…so I need to step up…but its scary🥹✌🏻#storyofmylife #nevergonnahappen #doomedtodiealone #Ryulsfacecardsaveshim
ryul wasn't angry. he'd like that to be known. he was simply... annoyed. well, slightly. maybe a little? or a lot.
the problem was that nobody seemed interested in taking him seriously.
earlier that afternoon, the members, especially woojin the ragebaiter had spent nearly an hour making fun of him after louis accidentally found an entire album of your pictures in his phone. because according to them, having exactly seven hundred and three pictures of your girlfriend was apparently concerning.
but down bad ryul completely disagrees.
"she's my girlfriend," ryul repeated, looking mildly offended that even he had to explain himself.
the slight furrow between his brows made it obvious that having an album of his girlfriend's pictures is simply reasonable.
"that's not helping," woojin immediately replied.
"hyung, normal people don't have that many pictures."
"i'm literally normal," ryul casually replied.
"hyung... you have screenshots." woojin stated.
"literally screenshots of y/n noona's instagram post before you even knew her. that's creepy."
after that, ryul had stopped participating in the conversation entirely.
which was how he ended up sitting alone, phone in hand, on one end of the couch several hours later with a very obvious frown on his face.
the moment you stepped into the room, you noticed immediately.
honestly, it would've been difficult not to.
ryul wasn't even trying to hide it.
he was sitting there with his jaw resting against his fist, staring blankly at his phone while everyone else talked around him. every now and then he'd sigh dramatically for absolutely no reason before shifting positions and looking mildly offended by life itself.
you already knew what happened, because louis had texted you.
im louis 🐘
noona
i think your boyfriend is mad
he's making a frowny face
please come and get him quickly
you 🩰
what did ya'll do to him 😭
im louis 🐘
noona
he has an album full of ur pictures
u wanna know how many of them?
there are 703 pictures
in total
isn't that quite excessive?
you 🩰
HAHAH, istg he's so cute
just leave him be
i'll be there in a minute
bye lou 👋🏻
im louis 🐘
ok ok
take care noona!
you almost laughed, then you walked over. and ryul noticed instantly.
of course he did.
his eyes followed you from the moment you entered the room, though he quickly looked away the second you glanced in his direction.
without saying a word, you sat beside him. close, not touching. but close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.
ryul immediately shifted. away from you.
"...did you just move away from me?"
"no."
he absolutely had. you bit back a smile.
"ryul, are you sulking?"
"no."
he answered far too quickly.
"right."
silence. a few seconds passed, then another.
eventually, you leaned over slightly and rested your head against his shoulder.
immediately—you felt him freeze.
for a moment, he didn't move at all. didn't say anything. didn't even look at you.
then, very slowly, his shoulders relaxed beneath your weight.
and after another second, he tilted his head just enough for it to rest lightly against yours.
we're making some progress.
"you know," you said softly, "i think it's cute."
ryul narrowed his eyes.
"what is?"
"the photo album."
"...they told you?"
"louis sent me some screenshots."
his expression immediately became horrified. which finally made you laugh.
"baby, that's private."
"seven hundred pictures, huh?"
"it's not even that much."
you burst out laughing.
and just like that, the pout deepened.
"stop."
before he could complain again, you reached over and gently grabbed his face with both hands. completely trapping him.
ryul blinked. once. twice. all thoughts immediately gone.
"ryul."
you smiled.
"what?"
"you're cute."
ryul stayed silent. for a second, he just stared at you. like his brain had completely short-circuited.
then the corners of his mouth slightly twitched like he was trying very hard not to smile, while whatever remained of his bad mood visibly struggled to survive.
it was such a small reaction that most people probably wouldn't have noticed it. but you did.
because unfortunately, you knew exactly what calling ryul cute did to him.
"don't do that."
"do what?"
"that thing."
"what thing?"
"where you say something nice and suddenly i'm not allowed to be mad anymore."
you laughed again.
because honestly? that was exactly what happened.
the second your thumbs brushed across his cheeks, whatever was left of his bad mood immediately started crumbling. you could practically watch it happen. the tension in his shoulders disappeared. the tiny pout he'd been holding onto for the last three hours weakened considerably.
and when you leaned forward to press a quick kiss on his cheek, it practically vanished altogether.
all because you were looking at him like that.
"i'm serious." your voice softened slightly.
"i think it's sweet."
ryul stared at you. like really stared.
then he groaned.
a long. suffering. dramatic groan.
before suddenly leaning forward and burying his face directly into your shoulder.
you laughed so hard you nearly fell over.
"ryul."
"leave me alone."
his arms wrapped around your waist anyway. pulling you closer until there wasn't even a sliver of space left between you.
unable to resist, you tilted his chin up again.
"one more?"
ryul eyed you suspiciously.
"...what."
instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. soft and sweet.
when you pulled back, his expression had completely short-circuited.
"..."
"see?" you grinned.
"all better!"
ryul immediately buried his face back into your shoulder.
"i hate you."
"no, you don't."
"yeah. i really don't." his voice came out muffled.
"you're literally hugging me."
"i'm suffering."
"mhm."
"terribly."
"obviously."
by now, he was practically folded into your side, cheek pressed against your shoulder while his arms stayed securely around your waist. every trace of the earlier pout had disappeared. every now and then, he'd nuzzle a little closer, as if making sure you weren't going anywhere. honestly, if anyone looked over right now, they'd immediately know he'd lost the battle.
which, to be fair—he never really stood a chance.
─────────────────────────────────
HIIIII, MY LOVELY BABYGALS!! 💕 i am so sorry for ghosting y'all like thattt 😔
my final exams and assignments have been absolutely beating my ass lately, so i genuinely haven't had much time to sit down and write more ryul fluff for you guys 😭💔
since so many of you have been asking for more ryul fluff, here's my little redemption hehe 🤭💕
i really hope you all enjoy it, my lovessss <33
alsooo, i tried out a new header style this time HAHAH. and i think i actually like this one a lot better 👀✨
as always, thank you so much for reading and supporting my stories. it genuinely means the world to mee 🥹💗
I want to write Asakura Jo as Jem Carstairs…perhaps set in a different location than England…like a little adventure in China? And maybe the female lead Y/N actually deserves him in this one…I have so many thoughts
maki is like the phase that puppies go through where they have to be a part of everything you do, even in things that don't require puppies.
he's just a little bit bigger than a puppy. he'll climb onto the couch you're sat on, head dropping to your lap as his arms wrap around your waist. he breathes in your scent, calming himself down by your presence. thing is, it's very hard to remove him. he's stuck to you like glue, adamant on keeping you all to himself.
he'll stand in front of the grocery store as he holds his hand open for you to hold. if you get shy, he'll sulk, trailing behind you with a dramatic sigh. oh, how woe is him — his lover simply can't stand him anymore. only when you give in does he perk up, boyish dimpled grin dancing across his face.
if there isn't a need to be touching, he'll find a reason to anyway. when you were struggling with cutting the watermelon one day, he didn't take the knife away from you. instead, he wrapped his hands around yours that were still holding the knife, chest pressed against your back as he spoke in your ear, feeling the heat creeping up your neck. this man is such a tease, of course he notices how shy you get around him, especially if you're not used to someone so obsessed with touch.
might i suggest that he's the massage master? when you're lying together in bed, his hand searches for the nearest body part, landing on your waist. he starts rubbing gentle, slow circles all along your abdomen, careful to avoid your ticklish sides. your tight neck or stiff back have melted by the time maki's done kneading you like dough. doesn't matter to him if it tires him out, or if he's already tired. if there's a chance to touch you, maki will absolutely take it. 𖹭
❤︎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cute cuddly moments with your boyfriend ~
•⠀ masterlist 𓋰 💬 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘀 ─── ᛫ ot9 x gn!r ✶ cute fluffy moments only~~ don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
K is big but clingy. you’re at your desk, halfway through answering emails, when the door opens. he doesn’t say anything—he just turns your chair around, climbs straight into your lap, and wraps himself around you like a giant koala. his long legs dangle off the sides, arms looped around your neck, face buried in your shoulder.
“mm i’m charging…” he mumbles, voice already sleepy.
every time you reach for your phone he lets out the most dramatic, wounded sigh until you give up and hug him back. within minutes he’s out cold, breathing slow and steady against your skin, completely content to stay right there for as long as you’ll let him.
FUMA strides in when you are folding laundry, he doesn’t say anything at first—he just tosses you over his shoulder with zero effort and drops you onto the mattress. you expect him to follow with something else, but instead he grabs his switch from the nightstand, climbs onto the bed, and pulls you so your back is flush against his chest.
he rests his chin on your shoulder, wraps one strong arm around your waist, and boots up pokémon with the other.
“i missed you,” he mumbles against your ear, voice low and soft. “you’ve been working too hard. let’s just stay like this for a while, yeah?”
he starts playing, occasionally turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek or temple whenever he catches something he likes. every now and then he tilts the screen toward you and quietly asks, “should i evolve this one?” his big frame completely surrounds you, warm and steady, while he plays.
EJ comes home when you're reading in bed. he changes into comfy clothes and joins you without disturbing your book. instead he gently lifts your shirt just enough to rest his cheek on your bare stomach, arms wrapping around your hips.
“don’t stop reading,” he says quietly, eyes already closing. every so often he turns his head to press a feather-light kiss to your skin, then settles again with a tiny contented sigh. the steady sound of your breathing and the warmth of your body is all he needs after a long day.
NICHOLAS doesn’t say a word. he just climbs onto the bed and carefully lays himself right on top of you, his full weight pressing you gently into the mattress. his chin rests on your shoulder, arms sliding underneath you so he can hold you from below.
“stay still,” he murmurs against your ear, voice low and a little sleepy. you can feel how tense he was earlier slowly melting away the longer he stays like this. every so often he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your cheek or the side of your neck. he doesn’t move for a long time—just breathes you in, completely content to have you trapped sweetly beneath him.
JO comes up behind you and rests his chin on the very top of your head, long arms sliding around your waist. he doesn’t say anything at first—just sways you both gently from side to side.
after a minute he mumbles, almost shyly, “you fit right here…” his hold tightens just a little, and you feel him smile against your hair. he stays like that until you’re both swaying in comfortable silence.
YUMA suddenly drops down, laying his head in your lap sideways whilst you’re sitting on the floor against the couch playing a game on your phone—his cheek squished against your thigh.
he grabs your free hand and places it on his head.
“pet me,” he demands cutely. you start running your fingers through his hair and within seconds he’s making actual little purring sounds, feet kicking happily behind him. every time your hand slows down he lets out a tiny whine and nuzzles closer, completely blissed out in your lap.
HARUA suddenly appears in front of you. he tilts his head cutely, puffs out his cheeks, and does a little aegyo pose with his hands near his face.
“harua’s been ignored for too long~” he whines in the sweetest voice, eyes sparkling with mischief.
the moment you cringe slightly and laugh but still reach for him, his whole expression changes. he doesn’t hesitate—he climbs straight into your lap, wraps his arms and legs around you like an octopus, and buries his face in your neck with a happy little noise. he stays glued to you after that, occasionally pulling back just enough to look at you with big shiny eyes before nuzzling right back in. every few minutes he presses a tiny kiss to your neck or jaw, refusing to let go even a little.
TAKI climbs up on the bed, you are laid back scrolling on your phone. he shifts himself so he’s on his stomach—head between your thighs.your brain short-circuits for a second—until he pulls out his switch and looks up at you with big, innocent eyes.
“squeeze?” he asks sweetly.
you laugh and gently press your thighs together around his head. he lets out the happiest little noise and starts his game, completely relaxed, occasionally reaching up to pat your knee like a thank-you. he stays there for over an hour, perfectly content in his favorite spot.
MAKI bursts into the room with energy, then immediately softens when he sees you scrolling on your phone in bed. he launches himself onto the mattress, lands with a soft bounce. immediately resting his head in your lap and wrapping his arms around your hips like he’s been waiting all day to do this.
he looks up at you with those big, sparkly eyes and smiles widely.
“hi baby,” he says, looking up at you with sparkly eyes.
he spends the next hour telling you every single thing that happened in his day whilst you play with his hair. every so often he pauses mid-story, lifts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your wrist or the fabric over your stomach, then drops right back down and continues talking like nothing happened.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── seonghyeon, who quietly yearns for you ever since he laid eyes on you, and watching you became his favorite habit
★ seonghyeon × fem!reader
word count ── 4.7k
˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! I ALWAYS LOVED THE IDEA OF A GUY YEARNING FOR A GIRL SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SEONGHYEON PERSPECTIVE OF HIM YEARNING FOR Y/N SINCE WE DONT GET ENOUGH GUYS PERSPECTIVE OF FALLING IN LOVE 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
Seonghyeon thought he was exceptionally skilled at concealing things. Years of carefully manufactured nonchalance had turned secrecy into second nature.
He concealed fatigue behind indolent, crooked smiles after grueling basketball practices. Buried frustration beneath sarcastic remarks sharp enough to provoke laughter from his teammates. Even the bruises mottling his knuckles disappeared beneath oversized hoodie sleeves, hidden alongside burdens he never verbalized aloud.
No one ever looked closely enough to notice, and Seonghyeon preferred it that way.
He preferred remaining untouchable, easygoing, unserious, effortlessly admired. The kind of boy everyone thought they understood despite never truly knowing him at all.
So when he realized he liked you—truly liked you—he assumed this would remain hidden too. A transient infatuation, something fleeting.
He was so wrong, because somehow, against all logic, his attention gravitated toward you with humiliating consistency.
It began subtly enough for him to dismiss it. A passing observation during class, nothing more.
You sat near the window two rows ahead of him, perpetually arriving several minutes before the bell rang. Morning sunlight filtered through the glass behind you, spilling molten gold across your desk until it looked almost cinematic. Your earbuds were usually tucked beneath your hair, expression serene and unreadable while pages turned beneath your fingertips.
You rarely spoke voluntarily, yet when teachers called upon you, your voice emerged soft but unwavering, composed with an intelligence that never sounded rehearsed. Simply quiet in a way that felt intentional.
There was an immeasurable distinction between silence born from insecurity and silence born from self-possession.
You embodied the latter effortlessly. Seonghyeon noticed things others overlooked entirely.
The rhythmic tap of your pen against the desk whenever concentration overtook you. The slight furrow between your brows during difficult equations, as though mathematical concepts had personally offended you. The way your lips moved faintly while reading paragraphs beneath your breath.
Small details, but somehow they embedded themselves inside his memory with alarming permanence, and that was the problem. Seonghyeon kept looking, far longer than necessary. Long enough for it to become dangerous.
“Dude.” Keonho’s voice shattered his trance one sluggish afternoon.
The classroom buzzed faintly with post-lecture conversation, chairs scraping against the floor while students packed belongings into bags. Seonghyeon blinked slowly, dragged back into reality.
“What?” he muttered.
Keonho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze followed Seonghyeon’s line of sight toward the front of the classroom—toward you.
You were laughing softly at something your friend had whispered, shoulders relaxing in a way Seonghyeon rarely witnessed during lessons. Sunlight illuminated the curve of your smile, warm and effortless enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly.
Keonho turned back toward him with dawning realization. “Oh,” he said.
Keonho looked unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for ten minutes straight.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
Seonghyeon scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair despite the sudden tension coiling beneath his ribs. “You’re imagining things.”
“No,” Keonho replied slowly, amusement beginning to creep into his expression, “I’m definitely not.”
Seonghyeon reached for his notebook too quickly, shoving it into his bag with unnecessary force.
Keonho’s grin widened immediately. “Oh my god.”
“Shut up.”
“You literally smiled at her out of nowhere.”
That silenced him instantly, because apparently he had, and judging from the sheer disbelief written across Keonho’s face, it must have looked devastatingly obvious.
Seonghyeon felt heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck. Impossible. He was careful, always careful.
Keonho stared at him like he’d uncovered classified information. “Seonghyeon,” he whispered dramatically, leaning across the desk, “you like someone, a girl in our class specifically.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I really don’t.”
“You looked at her like she personally descended from the heavens.”
“Okay so that’s not even-.”
“Don’t even lie bro.”
Seonghyeon rolled his eyes instinctively, but the reaction lacked its usual sharpness. His gaze betrayed him again, flickering unconsciously toward you. Still smiling, still talking. Completely unaware of the catastrophe unfolding several rows behind you.
An unbearable fondness settled heavily inside his chest, and suddenly he understood why poets wrote insufferable things about yearning, because liking you felt strangely catastrophic.
The terrifying realization that his attention sought you instinctively in every crowded room. That his mood inexplicably improved whenever your laughter drifted through hallways. That even mundane moments became memorable solely because you occupied them.
Keonho watched his expression transform in real time. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Dude, you’re actually gone gone oh my fucking god.”
“I hate you.”
“No this is amazing.” Keonho laughed quietly. “The great Seonghyeon finally losing his mind over a girl who probably doesn’t even know he exists.”
At that, Seonghyeon’s jaw tightened slightly, because that was the cruelest part. You probably didn’t.
To you, he was merely another familiar face in overcrowded hallways. Another student passing by between classes. Another athlete surrounded perpetually by noise and admiration and effortless attention.
Meanwhile, Seonghyeon noticed everything about you with terrifying precision. The sweaters you wore repeatedly when exhausted. The books tucked beneath your arm. The infinitesimal lift of your lips whenever someone held the door open for you.
You existed quietly, but somehow you occupied his thoughts with deafening intensity, and no matter how desperately he attempted to suppress it. Wherever you were, his eyes followed instinctively, as though drawn by something far beyond his control.
You confused him, not in the exasperating, incomprehensible way people often described attraction. No—this was far more insidious.
You bewildered him in the sort of way that cultivated curiosity so profound it bordered on obsession. The kind that compelled him to memorize trivial details without intention. The kind that made him wonder what songs played through your earbuds every morning, what thoughts occupied your mind during long silences, what kind of life existed beyond the quiet exterior you presented to everyone else.
Seonghyeon had encountered beautiful girls before. Plenty of them.
Girls who lingered after basketball games beneath fluorescent gymnasium lights, offering compliments laced with practiced flirtation. Girls who laughed too loudly at mediocre jokes and touched his arm too frequently during conversations. Girls who competed shamelessly for his attention because attention from Seonghyeon had somehow become valuable currency within the school.
But you, you never pursued him, never hovered nearby hoping to be acknowledged.
Half the time, Seonghyeon wasn’t even certain you recognized the effect you had on people around you, and perhaps that was precisely what rendered you so impossible to ignore.
Your indifference unsettled him. Not because it bruised his ego, but because it felt authentic in a world saturated with performance. You existed without demanding to be perceived.
There was something almost ethereal about that quiet self-assurance, something infinitely more captivating than loud charisma could ever hope to achieve.
Then one afternoon, he witnessed a version of you he had never seen before, and it ruined him completely.
Classes had just ended, releasing students into the golden haze of late afternoon. Warm spring air drifted lazily through the school courtyard, carrying fragments of conversation and distant traffic beyond the gates. Leaves rustled overhead in soft murmurs while clusters of students flooded the sidewalks in restless currents.
Seonghyeon stood near the entrance with Keonho, absentmindedly spinning a basketball against his palm while only half-listening to whatever story Keonho was animatedly telling beside him.
Something about practice schedules, or a teacher, or food. He couldn’t remember afterward, because then he heard it.
Your laughter.
Not the restrained, polite smile you wore during lectures. Not the soft exhale of amusement he occasionally caught when friends whispered comments beside you in class.
This was entirely different. It rang through the air unexpectedly bright—clear and effervescent enough to slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Genuine amusement illuminated every syllable, unguarded and vibrant in a way that made his pulse falter instinctively.
Seonghyeon’s head turned before he consciously processed the movement, and there you were.
Across the street near the convenience store, surrounded by three friends beneath shifting sunlight filtering through tree branches overhead. A cold drink rested loosely against your chest while laughter bent your body forward slightly, shoulders trembling beneath the force of it.
Your eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. Your smile lingered radiant and unrestrained. You looked alive. Not that you hadn’t before, but this was different.
In class, your quietness resembled still water: composed, elegant, difficult to read. Yet standing among people you trusted, you transformed entirely. Every movement became animated with warmth. Your expressions softened openly; your gestures carried effortless affection as you nudged one friend teasingly while another nearly doubled over laughing beside you.
It was astonishing, like watching sunlight suddenly break through heavy clouds.
Seonghyeon forgot how to breathe properly for a moment. Forgot Keonho’s voice. Forgot the basketball rotating lazily against his fingertips. Forgot the entire world surrounding him.
His attention narrowed with humiliating precision until all he could perceive was you. You, smiling so brightly it physically ached to witness. You, tilting your head back while laughter spilled freely into the open air.
You, looking lighter somehow—as though whatever burdens weighed upon you during quiet classroom hours vanished completely beside the people you loved.
Beautiful.
The word surfaced instinctively within his mind, but even that felt insufficiently devastating, because beauty implied something distant. Something merely admired.
This felt infinitely more dangerous. Something warm unfurled slowly inside his chest, spreading with frightening inevitability. Not sudden or explosive, but gradual—like sunlight creeping across frozen skin after enduring winter too long.
And Seonghyeon realized, with startling clarity, that he wanted to become someone capable of making you laugh like that.
He wanted to exist within the orbit of your happiness. Wanted to know which jokes dissolved you into helpless laughter. Wanted to learn the stories hidden behind your smiles. Wanted to witness every version of you concealed beneath the composed silence you carried through hallways each morning.
The realization struck him with terrifying force, given that this wasn’t superficial attraction anymore. This had surpassed that long ago.
Seonghyeon barely registered the comment. His gaze remained fixed across the street as though magnetized beyond his control.
You reached forward suddenly, brushing crumbs from your friend’s sleeve while grinning at something else being said. The gesture was absentmindedly affectionate, so natural and tender that it tightened something unbearably delicate within his ribcage.
God.
You were gentle, even your happiness looked gentle.
Keonho followed his line of sight before exhaling dramatically. “This is getting embarrassing.”
Still, Seonghyeon said nothing, because how could he possibly explain this feeling?
How could he articulate the strange ache blooming beneath his sternum simply from witnessing you happy? It made no rational sense.
Yet there he stood beneath amber sunlight and rustling trees, surrounded by noise and conversation and movement.
Completely undone by the sight of your smile lingering long after the laughter itself had faded away, and perhaps that should have frightened him more than it did.
Since Seonghyeon finally understood something dangerous then. He could spend hours watching you exist and never grow tired of it.
After that, Seonghyeon began encountering you everywhere, or perhaps encountering wasn’t the correct word.
Noticing felt more accurate, because you had likely always existed within those spaces long before he started paying attention; he had simply become incapable of overlooking you anymore.
At least, that was the excuse he repeated to himself whenever his gaze sought you instinctively in crowded corridors or across bustling streets.
It wasn’t intentional, it couldn’t be. But, somehow you materialized constantly within the edge of his existence, appearing so frequently it began to feel almost cruel.
He saw you in hallways between classes, weaving gracefully through congested crowds with textbooks pressed protectively against your chest. Students flowed chaotically around you in loud clusters and hurried conversations, yet you moved with quiet composure untouched by the surrounding disorder.
He noticed you in the library too.
Curled cross-legged on the floor beside low bookshelves because every table had already been occupied, papers spread carefully around you while soft music leaked faintly from your earbuds. Fluorescent lighting cast pale illumination across your features as you highlighted passages with meticulous concentration, occasionally pausing to rub tired eyes before continuing again.
And during rainy mornings, he spotted you at the bus stop outside campus, shoulders tucked inward against the cold while sleep still lingered visibly across your expression. Sometimes you yawned softly into your sleeve. Sometimes your head tilted back toward the grey sky as though mentally preparing yourself for the exhaustion awaiting you inside the school building.
Each sighting embedded itself inside his memory with alarming permanence, like fragments of a life he desperately wanted access to.
Then one evening, entirely by accident, he discovered where you worked. The convenience store near the gym, and suddenly Seonghyeon understood why fate was dangerous.
The realization struck him immediately upon entering. He froze so abruptly near the automatic doors that one of his teammates nearly collided into his shoulder from behind.
“What’s wrong with you?” someone muttered.
But Seonghyeon barely heard them, because there you were.
Standing behind the register beneath sterile fluorescent lighting, wearing an oversized store uniform that swallowed your frame slightly. Your nametag hung crookedly near the collar of your sweater as though you’d pinned it on hastily before your shift began. A few strands of hair had escaped whatever weak attempt you’d made to tidy it earlier, leaving them scattered messily around your face.
You looked exhausted. There were faint shadows beneath your eyes, subtle evidence of accumulated fatigue no amount of polite professionalism could entirely conceal.
But somehow you still looked devastatingly beautiful. Not in the polished, intimidating way magazines portrayed beauty. Yours felt softer than that, human. Real enough to ache over.
Seonghyeon’s chest constricted painfully. His teammates continued deeper into the store, loud voices echoing carelessly between aisles, but he remained rooted near the entrance like an idiot.
Then you looked up. Your expression shifted instantly into polite customer-service warmth. “Welcome.”
The single word obliterated him. It wasn’t special, logically, he knew that.
You probably greeted dozens of customers exactly the same way every shift, offering identical smiles and identical politeness until closing hours exhausted you completely.
But hearing your voice directed specifically toward him made something malfunction catastrophically inside his brain. His heartbeat stumbled hard enough to feel physically disorienting.
“Seonghyeon?” One teammate frowned from the snack aisle. “You planning on standing there all night?”
“Yeah,” he answered immediately, or attempted to. His voice emerged rougher than intended, startling even himself. Humiliation crawled beneath his skin.
He forced himself to move forward, trying desperately to resemble a normal human being rather than someone seconds away from cardiac arrest over a girl scanning convenience store items.
Unfortunately, proximity only worsened everything, suddenly he became acutely aware of details he should not have been noticing so intensely.
The absentminded way you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while operating the register. The faint sheen of lip balm catching harsh fluorescent light whenever you spoke. The exhaustion softening your features whenever no customers required your attention. The tiny crease forming between your brows while counting change.
Seonghyeon felt insane, completely and utterly insane. He purchased an energy drink first.
Then he lingered near the refrigerators pretending to contemplate additional options before returning with chips. By the time he approached the register a third time holding gum he didn’t even like, his teammates had stopped pretending not to notice.
One of them snorted loudly from nearby shelves. Another looked seconds away from tears from trying not to laugh.
You, meanwhile, stared at him with growing suspicion. “…Did you forget something?” you asked carefully.
Seonghyeon wanted the floor to split open beneath him. “I just—”
Then his mind blanked entirely, because you were looking directly at him. Patiently, quietly.
Your eyes reflecting pale convenience store lighting while waiting for his answer. Pretty, dangerously pretty. Every coherent thought abandoned him instantaneously.
“I like gum,” he finished weakly.
Silence.
Then one teammate nearly collapsed against the counter laughing.
“Shut up,” Seonghyeon muttered through gritted teeth without looking away from you.
And then—Your lips twitched, not fully. Just the slightest upward curve threatening briefly at the corners of your mouth before disappearing again.
But Seonghyeon noticed it immediately.
Of course he did.
He noticed everything involving you. That tiny almost-smile replayed inside his mind for the rest of the evening with devastating clarity, and somehow, impossibly, his feelings only deepened afterward.
Day after day, like warmth gradually permeating cold skin until eventually you realized you no longer remembered what freezing felt like.
Liking you became interwoven with the fabric of his routine so seamlessly he stopped recognizing where ordinary observation ended and yearning began.
Without intending to, he memorized your habits. You always purchased strawberry milk on Thursdays after your longest lecture.
Before examinations, you remained inside the library later than everyone else, surrounded by color-coded notes and exhaustion.
Whenever concentration overtook you completely, you chewed lightly against the inside of your cheek.
And every Friday evening after your shift ended, you sat alone outside the convenience store for exactly ten minutes before leaving.
Those ten minutes became sacred to him. Not because he spoke to you, usually he didn’t. He simply liked witnessing you without the careful composure you carried during school hours.
You sat beneath flickering streetlights with your bag resting beside your feet, shoulders finally relaxed after hours of work. Sometimes you stared absently at passing cars. Sometimes you closed your eyes briefly like you were savoring the silence after an exhausting day.
Seonghyeon found those moments unbearably tender. There was something intimate about being allowed to observe another person existing quietly when they believed no one was paying attention.
Then came the rain, violent and sudden.
One Friday evening, dark clouds ruptured overhead without warning, releasing sheets of rain heavy enough to drench sidewalks within seconds. Water battered against pavement mercilessly while neon reflections shimmered across puddles gathering near the curb.
Seonghyeon had been across the street with Keonho when he noticed you standing beneath the store’s narrow awning.
Your cardigan looked pitifully thin against the cold. You hugged your arms closer around yourself while staring unhappily toward the storm.
Something inside him reacted before logic intervened.
“Where are you going?” Keonho called after him.
Seonghyeon ignored him completely. Rain soaked through his hoodie almost immediately as he crossed the street quickly, shoes splashing through shallow puddles accumulating along the pavement.
You looked startled when he appeared beside you beneath the awning. “Hi,” you said softly.
And somehow that single syllable tightened his chest embarrassingly fast. “Hi.”
For several moments, neither of you spoke. Rain hammered relentlessly around the small shelter, cool air carrying the scent of wet asphalt and distant traffic lights reflecting against slick streets. Thunder murmured faintly somewhere far away.
Seonghyeon glanced upward toward the darkened sky. “You waiting for someone?”
You shook your head gently. “I forgot my umbrella.”
Without hesitation, he extended his toward you.
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Take it.”
“You need it too.”
“I live close.” A complete lie, his apartment was nearly twenty minutes away.
You frowned slightly. “But you’ll get soaked.”
Seonghyeon almost laughed at the concern in your voice, because if you asked him to stand beneath freezing rain for hours just to keep you company, he probably would have done it willingly.
“It’s fine,” he murmured.
Then you looked at him—really looked at him, and suddenly the atmosphere beneath that tiny awning shifted unbearably.
You were standing far too close. Close enough for him to notice droplets of rain clinging delicately to your lashes. Close enough to smell your shampoo beneath petrichor and damp fabric. Close enough to see exhaustion lingering faintly beneath your eyes despite your gentle expression.
His heartbeat became erratic. Unsteady enough to embarrass him.
“You’re nice,” you said quietly after a long pause. The statement sounded almost astonished. As though kindness directed toward you was something unfamiliar.
Seonghyeon swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. “You make it easy.”
The words escaped before he could restrain them. Immediately, panic surged through him. Too honest—far too honest.
Your eyes widened slightly.
So did his.
For one horrible second he considered throwing himself directly into traffic, but then your expression softened. Warmth unfolded slowly across your features until it settled there so gently it physically ached to witness.
“…Thank you,” you whispered.
And Seonghyeon realized with terrifying certainty that he was already far beyond saving. He had fallen hopelessly in love with you.
After that, things between you and Seonghyeon shifted. There was no singular, cinematic moment where the atmosphere transformed overnight, no abrupt confession unraveling beneath moonlight or reckless declaration shouted across crowded hallways.
Instead, the change emerged gradually, like dawn seeping through curtains before anyone consciously realizes darkness has disappeared.
You began waving at him whenever your paths crossed between classes. Small gestures, brief moments. Yet they altered him embarrassingly fast.
At first, your waves were tentative—slight lifts of your hand accompanied by soft smiles that appeared almost instinctive whenever your eyes found him in crowded corridors. But eventually those moments became natural, woven seamlessly into the fabric of daily routine.
And every single time it happened, Seonghyeon felt something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.
Keonho noticed immediately, of course. “You smile like an idiot whenever she looks at you,” he remarked one afternoon while walking toward practice.
Seonghyeon shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. It’s disgusting.”
Yet despite the ridicule, Seonghyeon couldn’t stop himself, there was something devastating about being acknowledged by you so effortlessly.
You looked for him now. That realization alone nearly ruined him. Sometimes you paused beside his desk before class to ask harmless questions about assignments. Other times you stopped him near stairwells just to complain quietly about upcoming exams or difficult professors.
The conversations themselves were insignificant, However, Seonghyeon replayed every single one afterward with humiliating precision.
Your voice lingered in his head long after you walked away. He remembered specific inflections. Particular expressions. The exact cadence of your laughter whenever he said something unexpectedly funny.
And god, your humor. No one warned him about that. You weren’t loud about it. Your jokes arrived subtly, concealed beneath soft observations and perfectly timed comments delivered with an almost absentminded sincerity that caught him entirely off guard.
The first time you made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly, he stared at you afterward in disbelief. You looked startled too, then pleased. The sight nearly stopped his heart.
He liked hearing you talk. Not because you filled silence constantly, but because you chose your words carefully. Thoughtfully. There was intention behind everything you said, as though conversations mattered to you in ways most people overlooked.
Perhaps what unsettled Seonghyeon most was the realization that you saw him differently too.
Not as the basketball captain. Not as the effortlessly popular boy everyone else seemed determined to reduce him into. You looked at him like he was simply Seonghyeon.
A boy who got tired after practice. A boy who liked stupid convenience store snacks and terrible music. A boy whose sarcasm concealed softness more often than not.
The simplicity of that recognition affected him more profoundly than applause after games or admiration from strangers ever could. With you, he never felt like he needed to perform.
One evening after practice, exhaustion clung heavily to his body as he wandered toward the library in search of quiet.
The campus had begun settling into dusk, golden sunlight stretching languidly through tall windows while shadows lengthened slowly across polished floors. The library itself remained nearly empty, hushed silence interrupted only by the occasional turning of pages somewhere deeper inside.
Then he saw you, and immediately forgot how exhausted he’d been.
You sat tucked into a secluded corner near the back shelves, surrounded by open textbooks and loose papers scattered chaotically across the table. Highlighters rested uncapped beside notebooks overflowing with meticulous handwriting.
Somewhere amidst studying, sleep had overtaken you completely. Your head rested against folded arms, pencil still loosely secured between relaxed fingers. Strands of hair spilled carelessly across your face while the setting sun enveloped everything around you in molten amber light.
Beautiful.
The word struck him with painful force, not because of polished perfection, not because of aesthetics. But, there was something unbearably tender about the sight before him.
You looked exhausted, real in a way that made his chest ache violently.
Seonghyeon stopped walking, then stayed there far longer than he should have. Simply watching, admiring. He expected nothing from you. Didn’t require your attention or affection to justify the intensity of his feelings.
Looking at you had simply become his favorite thing in the world. The realization should have terrified him more than it did.
Warm sunset light illuminated the curve of your cheekbones softly, dust particles drifting lazily through the air around you like fragments of gold suspended in time. The library’s silence wrapped around the moment delicately, intimate enough to make his heartbeat slow.
You stirred slightly in your sleep. Your brows furrowed faintly as the oversized sweater hanging from one shoulder slipped lower.
Before thinking, Seonghyeon moved closer carefully, almost reverently. His fingertips brushed the fabric gently as he adjusted it back into place, movements slow enough to avoid waking you, like touching something infinitely precious.
The contact lasted barely seconds, yet his pulse reacted catastrophically anyway.
Then your eyes opened. Sleep lingered visibly within them as your gaze lifted immediately toward his face, unfocused for half a second before recognition softened your expression entirely.
And then you smiled.
God.
That smile would destroy him someday.
“Practice ended?” you asked quietly, voice roughened by sleep and exhaustion.
The sound settled directly beneath his ribs. “Yeah,” he answered softly.
You pushed yourself upright almost immediately, embarrassment flickering across your face as you glanced at the mess of notes surrounding you. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You looked cute.”
Silence.
Seonghyeon froze, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
Your eyes widened slightly. Heat rushed violently across your cheeks, and judging from the warmth burning beneath his own skin, he probably looked equally horrified.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gaze darting anywhere except your face. “I mean—not cute like—I just meant—”
You laughed quietly. Affectionate enough to unravel him instantly.
Seonghyeon looked up automatically, and there it was again. That brightness, that impossible warmth existing only for him in moments like these.
You studied him silently for several seconds, expression gentler than he’d ever seen before. Then, almost shyly, you spoke. “I like when you look at me like that.”
His breath caught immediately. “What?”
“You always look at me like I’m…” You hesitated briefly, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil. “Important.”
The confession struck him harder than any impact he’d ever endured on the court, you sounded genuinely uncertain, as though the possibility had never occurred to you before.
Seonghyeon stared at you helplessly, completely, devastatingly helpless.
You were important, more important than basketball. More important than popularity, expectations, victories, reputation. More important than anything occupying his life lately.
You had woven yourself into every corner of his thoughts without permission. Into mundane routines and fleeting moments and quiet evenings he once navigated without noticing how lonely they were beforehand.
He stepped closer before fear could stop him. The fading sunlight between you turned everything softer somehow.
“You are,” he admitted quietly.
Your expression transformed instantly. Something fragile appeared there. Tender enough to make his chest tighten painfully.
He loved the sound of your laughter drifting unexpectedly through crowded hallways.
Loved the concentrated crease forming between your brows while studying. Loved your quietness, your kindness, your subtle humor hidden beneath soft-spoken words. Loved the way every room shifted whenever you entered it, as though his entire body recognized your presence before his mind could process it.
He loved discovering you everywhere. Loved memorizing details no one else considered significant. Loved every fleeting interaction you offered him so casually, unaware of how precious he considered each one.
He loved you entirely.
Also, judging from the way you were looking at him now—with warmth unfolding slowly across your features like sunlight after endless rain
☆.ㅤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍.ㅤ ㅤ──ㅤㅤ you spend the entire dinner trying to figure out how to finally say yes to martin while he unknowingly makes it harder by being painfully sweet the whole night.
ᯓ ࣪ ˖ ִ ★ feat. 𖹭 pairing ── martin edwards ⭒ f reader.
martin insists on walking on the outer side of the sidewalk the entire way there, one hand lightly hovering near your back whenever the crowd thickens around you both.
he keeps pointing at random things to make you laugh, stopping mid sentence whenever he notices you're carrying too much and immediately taking it from you without asking.
the restaurant he picks is small and warm, dim yellow lights and old songs humming softly through the speakers. he pulls your chair out before sitting beside you instead of across from you, saying it feels weird to talk from so far away.
you almost say yes right then just because of how naturally he makes room for you in everything he does.
"you've been quiet today," he says while pouring water into your glass first before touching his own.
you shake your head quickly and mumble that you're only hungry, which earns you a suspicious little smile from him.
"that serious?" he asks, leaning closer with his elbow against the table. "should i be worried?"
you laugh softly, telling him he's dramatic, but your fingers tighten around the napkin resting on your lap.
he spends most of dinner making sure you eat before him, pushing the better looking pieces of food onto your plate without even noticing he's doing it.
"try this one," he says, holding his fork near your mouth before pausing. "wait, sorry, was that too much?"
you stare at him for a second before taking the bite anyway, pretending not to notice how pink his ears become afterward. "you always do things before thinking."
he grins immediately, shrugging. "only around you."
the entire time, you keep rehearsing the words inside your head while he talks about smaller things, like a dog he saw earlier or how he almost missed the train trying to buy your favorite drink. every few minutes he glances at you with that same careful expression, constantly checking whether you're comfortable.
"are you cold?" he asks after noticing you rubbing your hands together once. before you can answer, he's already taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.
"martin," you sigh quietly, and he blinks at you.
"yeah?" he asks innocently, genuinely unaware he's making this harder for you.
when dessert arrives, he slides the prettier slice toward you automatically. "have the strawberry one. you looked at it longer."
you stare at the plate for a moment before finally laughing under your breath. "you notice everything."
he takes a sip from his drink. "only the things that matter to me."
that makes your chest ache badly enough that you almost lose your nerve again. you watch him wipe a bit of cream off the corner of your mouth with a napkin without teasing you even once about it.
"sorry," he says softly afterward, like he's done something embarrassing instead of something unbearably sweet. your heart has been saying yes for weeks already. you just need your mouth to catch up.
"hey," you call quietly once the plates have been cleared away.
he turns toward you immediately with that same open expression he always has whenever you speak, patient and attentive all at once. "hm? you're scaring me a little. what's with the staring?" he admits with a small laugh.
you look down at your hands before speaking. "if you ask me again," you say slowly, "i think i'll say yes this time."
he simply stares at you for a second, almost blank, the words refusing to settle properly in his head. "wait," he breathes. "deada— seriously?"
you nod once and martin immediately sits up straighter beside you.
"you mean— like officially?" he asks, pointing between the two of you in disbelief.
"okay, you're kind of ruining the moment."
"no, wait, sorry," he rushes out, suddenly smiling so hard he has to cover part of his face with one hand. "i just thought maybe you still needed time." his voice softens near the end of the sentence. "i was willing to wait longer."
you feel something twist painfully sweet in your chest hearing that. "i know."
martin looks at you carefully before hesitantly reaching for your hand on top of the table, giving you room to pull away. when you intertwine your fingers with his first, his entire expression changes.
he stares at your joined hands for three whole seconds then abruptly stands up.
you blink at him in confusion while he points at you with wide eyes. "wait here," he says urgently before speed walking away toward the other side of the restaurant.
"martin?" you call out, completely lost.
he ignores you, crouches beside a nearby wall, pumps both fists silently in the air, then aggressively whispers, yes! let's go! to absolutely nobody. one waiter watches the entire thing happen while carrying drinks.
he fixes his expression before calmly walking back to the table like nothing happened. he sits down, clears his throat once, then reaches for your hand again with forced composure.
"sorry about that," he says smoothly. "i just needed a private moment."
you stare at him in disbelief before laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
martin immediately breaks character and starts laughing too, burying his face into your shoulder while muttering, "i thought i was being subtle."
you're still laughing when he suddenly goes very quiet beside you. at first you think he's embarrassed from getting caught doing whatever that victory celebration near the wall was supposed to be.
"you're actually insane," you tell him through another laugh while slowly turning toward him. martin immediately straightens up the second your eyes land on him, pressing his lips together so hard it almost looks painful. "are you . . . crying?"
"no!" he answers instantly in a voice so obviously choked that it makes the situation worse.
you lean closer, trying to look at his face properly while he actively avoids eye contact with you for the first time all night.
"i'm not crying, i swear," he insists, blinking rapidly. "my eyes are just—" his voice cracks horribly halfway through the sentence.
you stare at him for one long second before bursting into laughter again. "you actually are crying."
"i'm trying not to!" he whisper-yells, grabbing a napkin and wiping under his eyes quickly before anyone else can notice, except the waiter from earlier definitely notices because he slows down while walking past your table.
martin sees him looking and immediately drops his head into his hands. "this is awful," he groans. "i look like i just got proposed to."
"you kind of did," you point out.
that only makes him laugh harder, which unfortunately makes the tears worse too. "stop making me laugh," he says between sniffles. "you don't understand, i've been emotionally preparing for rejection this entire month."
he takes a shaky breath and looks at you again with watery eyes. "do you know how many speeches i rehearsed in case you said no?"
"you rehearsed rejection speeches? you practiced?"
"three," he admits. "one mature version, one respectful version, and one where i mysteriously disappear and join the mountains."
he watches you laugh with the softest expression imaginable, eyes still red while he smiles helplessly at you. "see? this is exactly why i like you so much."
"you're not flirting your way out of this one."
"i'm just really happy," he says defensively while dabbing at his eyes again. "leave me alone. i'm delicate right now."
even after embarrassing himself completely, martin still looked at you with the soft wonder of someone who couldn't believe he finally got to keep you.
synopsis :
→ you take care of everyone in cortis like it’s second nature—but when it finally becomes too much, james is there to remind you that even “mom” needs someone too.
→ the thing about being the “mom” of the group… is that no one really notices when you start running on empty.
you’re used to it—
fixing seonghyeon’s hair before stage, reminding keonho where he left his jacket, handing juhoon water before he even realizes he’s thirsty.
it’s automatic. natural.
you are the one who keeps everything together.
and most days, you don’t mind.
but today feels heavier.
the schedule had been packed—interviews, rehearsals, a last-minute recording—and somehow, you were still the one making sure everyone else was okay.
“Nonna, have you seen my—”
“on the chair,” you answer without even looking up, adjusting martin’s mic pack.
“dad, tell her to stop reading my mind, it’s creepy,” keonho mutters, earning a laugh from the others.
you smile faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
no one notices.
except james.
he always notices.
he watches the way your shoulders are just slightly more tense, the way your voice is softer...not in a gentle way, but in a tired one.
he doesn’t say anything right away.
not in front of everyone.
instead, he waits.
until you’re alone in the hallway, finally getting a second to breathe.
“hey.”
his voice is quiet, careful.
you look up, forcing a small smile. “hey.”
he doesn’t buy it. not for a second.
“you okay?”
“mhm,” you nod quickly. “just tired.”
a lie.
he steps closer anyway, his hand finding yours without hesitation. his thumb brushes over your knuckles like he’s grounding you.
“don’t do that,” he murmurs.
“do what?”
“take care of everyone else and forget about yourself.”
your chest tightens a little at that.
“i’m fine, james. really.”
he tilts his head slightly, eyes soft but unwavering.
“then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
that’s what breaks it.
not fully—not dramatically.
just a quiet crack.
your eyes sting, and you look away quickly, shaking your head. “I'm not....”
his grip on your hand tightens just a little.
“hey… it’s okay.”
and somehow, hearing that makes it worse.
“i just—” you inhale shakily, trying to find the words. “i don’t know, it’s just a lot today.”
he doesn’t interrupt. doesn’t rush you.
“everyone needs something all the time and i don’t mind, i really don’t but…” you laugh softly, even though it sounds a little broken. “i’m just tired.”
james’ expression softens completely.
without a word, he pulls you into him arms wrapping around you in a way that feels steady, safe, familiar.
you melt into it almost instantly.
“you don’t have to do everything,” he murmurs against your hair.
you shake your head slightly against his chest.
“but if i don’t, things fall apart.”
“no,” he says gently. “they don’t.”
you don’t respond to that.
because part of you still believes it.
his hand moves to the back of your head, holding you there.
“you take care of them,” he continues softly, “but who takes care of you?”
you don’t have an answer.
so he gives you one.
“me.”
your grip tightens slightly on his shirt.
“you don’t have to be the strong one all the time,” he says. “not with me.”
for a moment, everything just… stills.
no noise. no schedules. no expectations.
just him.
you pull back slightly, looking up at him.
“they’re gonna start asking where mom and dad went,” you mumble, trying to lighten the mood.
he smiles a little at that.
“let them.”
you huff quietly. “keonho’s gonna say something annoying.”
“he always does.”
“and seonghyeon’s gonna make it worse.”
“definitely.”
that earns a small, real laugh from you.
james’ smile softens at the sound.
“see,” he says quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “that’s better.”
you roll your eyes a little, but your shoulders have relaxed now.
“five more minutes?” he asks.
you hesitate… then nod.
“five more minutes.”
and for once, you let yourself have it.
when you walk back in, it doesn’t take long.
“oh—there they are,” keonho grins immediately. “mom, dad, did you miss us?”
you sigh, but there’s no real bite to it.
“what do you need?”
“nothing,” he shrugs. “just felt like calling you mom again.”
“don’t start,” you warn.
“dad, she’s being mean to me,” he adds, turning to james.
james doesn’t even hesitate.
“listen to your mom.”
the room erupts instantly.
you stare at him, betrayed.
“seriously?”
he just smiles—soft, knowing.
and this time, when you shake your head…
you’re not tired anymore.
author’s note :
→ mom & dad cortis agenda is STRONG 😭 keonho and seonghyeon would never let them breathe fr
Practice had been going on for hours. The air in the room felt heavy, filled with the sound of shoes against the floor and the music replaying over and over again. Everyone was tired, but no one said it out loud not when there was still choreography to clean up.
You insisted you were fine.
Even when your movements started getting just a little sloppy, even when your timing was slightly off, you brushed it off with a quick “again” and reset your position. Being the maknae didn’t mean you got to fall behind. If anything, it made you push harder.
“Take a break,” James said at one point, watching you a little too closely.
“I’m good,” you replied quickly, already counting yourself back in.
That was your first mistake.
The move wasn’t even the hardest one. It was simple something you had done a hundred times before but your foot landed wrong, just slightly off balance.
And that was enough.
There was a sharp twist, a sudden loss of stability then pain.
You didn’t even realize you had fallen until you were on the floor.
The music cut off immediately.
“Hey—”
“Wait—”
“Are you okay?”
The room shifted in seconds. What had been focused and loud turned into overlapping voices and rushed footsteps as all of them crowded around you at once.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, instinctively, even as you tried to sit up.
You weren’t fine.
The second you moved, pain shot through your ankle, sharp enough to make you suck in a breath.
James was the first to notice.
“Don’t,” he said immediately, kneeling down in front of you. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight that you stopped moving without thinking. “Don’t get up yet.”
“I just—”
“Don’t.”
Softer this time. Careful.
That’s when it really hit them.
“Did you twist it?” Seonghyeon asked, already crouching beside you, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen during practice.
“She landed weird,” Juhoon added, grabbing your foot and placing it on his thigh to elevate it
Keonho hovered nearby, clearly unsure what to do, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. “Does it hurt a lot?”
You hesitated. “…it’s not that bad.”
Five pairs of eyes immediately told you that no one believed that.
“Stop saying that,” Martin muttered, already grabbing a towel and moving it under your foot so it wasn’t pressed flat against juhoon thigh “You said that last time too.”
You opened your mouth to argue then closed it again.
James’ hands were gentle as he hovered near your ankle, not touching yet, like he was waiting for permission. “Can I?” he asked quietly.
You nodded.
The second he applied even the slightest pressure, your expression gave you away.
“Yeah, no,” he said under his breath. “We’re not continuing practice.”
“But we still have to—”
“No.”
This time it wasn’t just him.
“No,” Seonghyeon repeated.
“Absolutely not,” Juhoon added.
Keonho shook his head, already backing away to grab something. “I’m getting ice.”
You blinked at them, overwhelmed by how fast everything changed. Just minutes ago, they were correcting your angles and telling you to go again and now they were acting like you’d broken something.
“I’m okay,” you tried again, softer this time.
James looked at you, and there was something different in his expression. Not frustrated—just… worried.
“You don’t have to push through everything,” he said.
That shut you up faster than anything else.
By the time Keonho came back with ice, Martin had already picked you up princess style and placed you on the couch to properly elevate your leg , and Seonghyeon was making sure you didn’t try to move again. Juhoon had paused the music completely, talking quietly with the staff in the corner.
Everything felt… taken care of.
Too taken care of.
You huffed a little. “You guys are overreacting.”
“No, we’re reacting the correct amount,” Keonho shot back, carefully handing the ice to James instead of you.
“Hey—”
“You’ll drop it.”
“I will not—”
“Don’t move,” Seonghyeon interrupted, pressing lightly on your shoulder to keep you still.
You stared at him. “…you’re all so bossy.”
“And you’re injured,” Martin replied easily.
There was no winning this.
James adjusted the ice against your ankle, his touch careful, slower than usual. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s cold,” you complained.
“It’s supposed to be.”
“I don’t like it.”
He almost smiled. “I know.”
Despite yourself, you felt your shoulders relax just a little.
The room stayed quieter than usual after that. No loud music, no chaotic arguing just low voices and the occasional glance your way to make sure you were okay.
For once… you weren’t the one taking care of everyone else.
They were taking care of you.
After a while, when the initial panic faded, the teasing slowly started to come back.
“You really fell on that move?” Juhoon said, shaking his head.
You gasped. “Oh my god—”
“I’m just saying, out of all the parts—”
“Do you want me to trip you next?”
Keonho snorted. “She would too.”
“Not right now, she won’t,” James cut in calmly.
You looked at him. “Traitor.”
“Temporarily,” he corrected.
Seonghyeon leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “We’re not letting you walk on that for a while.”
“It’s not that bad—”
“Say that one more time,” Martin warned.
You shut up.
A few minutes later, when it was time to move you, things somehow got worse.
“I can walk,” you insisted.
“No,” all of them said at once.
Before you could argue, James was already helping you up carefully, one arm steady around you while Seonghyeon stayed close on the other side. Keonho hovered like you were about to fall again at any second, and Juhoon had already cleared a path like it was a serious operation.
“This is so unnecessary,” you muttered.
“You say that now,” Keonho replied, “but if you fall again, we’re never letting you live it down.”
“…that’s not comforting.”
“Good.”
Despite everything, you found yourself smiling.
Because yeah it hurt, and yeah, they were being a lot but the way they stayed close, the way they refused to let you brush it off, the way they took over without hesitation…
It meant something.
Even if they’d never say it out loud.
author’s note :
this is so fun to read sorry I hadn't post in a while , its because I've been super stressed with school I'm in dual enrollment and have a bunch of honor classes so I'm just trying to finish strong any ways hope you guys enjoy don't forget to eat something yummy !
pairings : → cortis members × lngshot!reader (only girl member)
synopsis : → cortis and lngshot fans swear there’s rivalry, but behind the scenes, each member of cortis is dealing with their own very obvious (and very denied) crush on lngshot’s only girl.
→ james
james convinces himself early on that what he feels is just professional respect. you’re an all-rounder, after all—stable vocals, clean dancing, strong stage presence—and as someone who takes performance seriously, it makes sense that he’d notice you. that’s what he tells himself every time your name comes up. but the problem is, it goes beyond that. he doesn’t just notice your skills he notices you. the way you carry yourself off stage, the way you laugh during interviews, the way you somehow make everything look effortless. it lingers longer than it should.
he becomes quieter whenever the topic shifts to you, shutting down conversations before they go too far. it’s subtle, but noticeable. “focus on our own work,” he’ll say, even when no one was being serious. he doesn’t want to unpack it, doesn’t want to admit there’s anything there. but then he finds himself scanning rooms during joint schedules, just to see if you’re around. and when you are, he’s careful—too careful not to look too long. it’s controlled, restrained, but constant. and the others pick up on it immediately, even if he pretends there’s nothing to notice.
→ juhoon
juhoon handles everything through humor, turning his interest in you into a running joke so no one questions it too deeply. he brings you up casually, pretending it’s just for entertainment, but there’s always intention behind it. he’ll reference something you said in an interview, mimic a moment from a clip, or mention a performance just to see how everyone reacts. it’s his way of testing the waters without actually admitting anything.
but what gives him away is how much he remembers. he doesn’t just watch your content once he replays it, picking up on details, small habits, the way your personality shows through even in short clips. he likes that you’re naturally funny, that you don’t try too hard to be entertaining. it catches him off guard, and instead of addressing it, he leans into teasing. if anyone calls him out, he immediately brushes it off, acting like it’s all for fun. but the truth is, out of everyone, he’s one of the most genuinely interested he just hides it behind jokes so no one takes him seriously.
→ seonghyeon
seonghyeon approaches everything more quietly, but in a way that’s almost more telling. he doesn’t engage in teasing or denial like the others instead, he observes. he watches your performances with a critical eye, noticing technique, consistency, the way you control your energy on stage. his compliments, when they come, are specific and thoughtful, never surface-level. it’s clear he respects you not just as an idol, but as a performer.
that respect slowly turns into something more, though he doesn’t acknowledge it outright. what stands out is how he reacts when others talk about you he doesn’t dismiss it, doesn’t joke, doesn’t exaggerate. he just listens, occasionally adding something small but meaningful. and when fan discussions start crossing the line, when the rivalry becomes harsh or unfair, there’s a quiet shift in him. he doesn’t like it. he won’t say it directly, but there’s a subtle protectiveness in the way he carries himself whenever your name is involved.
→ keonho
keonho is, without question, the most obvious and the most in denial. he talks the most about not liking you, constantly brushing off your popularity like it doesn’t make sense to him. he’ll call you overrated, say he doesn’t get the hype, act like he’s completely uninterested. but none of it lines up with his actions.
because he knows things. too many things. he recognizes your voice instantly, remembers parts of your choreography, notices small changes in your styling. it’s the kind of awareness that doesn’t come from casual attention it comes from watching, repeatedly. and the others catch onto it fast. they call him out, point out the contradictions, and he scrambles to defend himself every time, coming up with excuses that don’t quite hold up.
it gets worse when you’re actually around. all that loud denial disappears, replaced with awkward silence and quick glances that never last long enough to get caught. he becomes hyper-aware, careful with what he says, like he’s afraid one wrong word will expose him completely. and honestly? it probably would.
→ martin
martin is the calmest about it, but also the hardest to read. he doesn’t participate in the teasing, doesn’t deny anything loudly he just exists somewhere in the middle, quietly aware of his own feelings without making a big deal out of them. he watches your performances because he wants to, not because anyone brings you up. there’s no pressure behind it, no need to justify it.
what stands out is how genuine his reactions are. when you do something impressive, he notices. when you say something funny, he smiles. it’s subtle, easy to miss if you’re not paying attention, but it’s consistent. and when conversations about you turn negative or overly competitive, he doesn’t engage. he won’t argue, but he won’t agree either. his silence says enough. out of everyone, he’s probably the most at peace with it—even if he never says anything out loud.
→ your name comes up more often than it should, and every time it does, the reactions are immediate and telling. juhoon usually starts it, casually mentioning something about you just to see what happens. keonho reacts first, defensive without reason, which only makes things worse. martin stays quiet but attentive, while seonghyeon watches the entire exchange like he’s already figured it out.
james tries to shut it down before it goes anywhere, but that only draws more attention. the more he avoids the conversation, the more obvious it becomes that there’s something worth avoiding. and the others notice. they don’t push too far—but they don’t let it go either.
it turns into a pattern. denial, teasing, silence, avoidance. over and over again.
→ the tension created by fans only adds pressure to everything. every interaction is monitored, every shared space analyzed, every glance turned into something bigger. so the members become careful too careful. they avoid looking too long, reacting too openly, doing anything that could be taken the wrong way.
but that kind of restraint has the opposite effect. people notice the hesitation, the way reactions are cut short, the way attention shifts just a little too quickly. it creates a different kind of tension one that feels intentional, even if it isn’t meant to be.
and behind all of that, behind the cameras and expectations, they’re left dealing with something much simpler… and much harder to ignore.
→ none of them will say it. not out loud, not clearly, not in a way that can be confirmed. but it’s there in the way they react, the way they avoid, the way they notice more than they should.
because at the end of the day, it’s not about rivalry or fans or expectations.
it’s about the fact that you walked into the industry, stood on stage, and made yourself impossible to ignore.
and no matter how much they try to pretend otherwise…
they noticed.
author’s note :
is this a bit delusional .... maybe but I don't care!!!
⋆˚࿔ 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!💓🤧
⋆.𐙚 ̊ ur boyfriend james insists on doing your makeup, and unfortunately he wins the battle.
—🎥 fem!reader x bf!james , fluff , skinship , kissing , dark humour <3
You don’t quite know how you’ve ended up here but, here you are, perched on your bathroom counter, legs swinging whilst James is stood in between them.
“Okay, i’ve seen you do this a hundred times,” he says, opening your concealer like it’s an undiscovered specimen of some sort. “This can’t be too hard.”
You’re already fighting back a painful laugh when he starts to lean in with the concealer, but to your lips. He’s got a look which says ‘this must be right’ plastered on his face, way too focused yet still miserably failing. James placed his hand delicately on your jaw, his thumb under your chin, tilting up your head to meet his eyes.
“Here goes nothing.” He says, zero trust in his eyes.
He does his first swatch of his masterpiece.
“Does this beauty regime include using my concealer as lip gloss?” You question between giggles, a beige smear at the corner of your mouth.
You can’t help but giving him a playful kiss on the lips. He makes this noise, not a word, more like a “huh?”, his hands frozen in place, still gripping your concealer, like someone hit a pause button on him. For a second, he’s just stood there, his lips parted with shock. He loved when you gave him these kisses full of surprise yet overwhelming love.
“What was that for baby?” He questions, slightly star struck.
“Nothing,” You reply “You’re just cute.”
He stares at you for a beat. Then he laughs - shocked, wrecked, like you’ve knocked every single thought out of him, looking down shyly.
“But you better fix my lips.” You add.
It’s like his whole body restarts at your warning, he looks up at you, eyes widening, and then back down to your lips, he eagerly tries to wipe it off with his thumb but just ends up smearing it all over your chin. He steps back to try and assess what he’s done, his eyebrows furrow into his hairline and scratches his head like he’s reviewing the mona lisa, a stain of concealer on the corner of his lips that makes you stare in admiration.
“Right, nothing a little eyeshadow can’t fix.” He states, still ever so slightly stunned but ready to lock in.
Honestly, you’ve prepared yourself to look like a clown after he’s done, but hey, anything to make your boyfriend happy.
He rambles through your makeup bag, pulling out your favourite eyeshadow palette of beautiful nude colours, ranging from mahogany brown to pale beige.
James opens the palette and assesses each colour with deep concentration, his eyes lighting up when he sees the dark maroon, the corner of his lips pulled up with mischief. You know exactly where this is going to go but you just give in, he’s already this far into ruining your face, you may go all the way.
“Close your eyes, trust me” He says, rubbing his middle finger into the eyeshadow.
“I trust you with my life Jami, just not my eyelids.”
But, it’s already too late, he’s carelessly tapping the pigment onto your eyelid. You open your other eye that hasn’t been ruined yet and see him standing there with his tongue poking out the side, is this supposed to help him?
He pulls back, horrified. “If anyone sees you, i’d be charged with assault and battery.”
The comment caught you so off guard you couldnt help but hit his chest, you both laugh together for what feels like forever, until he’s crouched on the floor, stomach hurting from laughing too much.
“Okay, one more step.” He says, weak at the knees, his eyes glazed with tears.
Blush is the next step he chooses, he pumps the brush so hard against the powder there’s a cloud of pink dust wafting into the air between you two. There’s specks of blush everywhere, in your hair, on the mirror and possibly in your mouth.
The brush tickles your cheek, he’s gentle with the way he treats you, maybe not the same case when it comes to getting the product out. You appreciated that about James though, he was always sure to treat you like a princess, he wouldn’t ever hurt you. You just wished that same concept applied to your expensive makeup.
He does his ‘finishing touches’ and shuts the blush compact, like he’s a champion chess player hitting the clock after checkmate.
“Take a look at my masterpiece.”
You spin around to the mirror behind you, one eye looks like you’ve been punched, your lips are painted beige giving you the sick patient look. And your cheeks are so red it looks like you’ve been violently slapped.
“Jami, I look like a crime scene.” You say, shocked. You knew it was gonna be bad but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you see in the reflection. James is stood proudly in the back, arms crossed and his mouth still laced with a concealer coloured kiss mark.
He clearly didn’t notice as one moment and he’s smiling, and the next he’s up against the counter rubbing his mouth violently.
“Take it off,” He groans, but he’s smiling. He likes the mark you’ve left on him. “I didn’t consent to getting my makeup done too!”
You shake your head, grabbing his shoulder to make him face you, and pull him closer by the hem of his shirt, “Nope you did this to me, now we can match.” and you kiss him again, this time more slow and intentional.
He makes a muffled protest against your mouth, but he gives in like he always does, hands sliding around your waist. And when you pull back, his whole mouth is stained, like he’s just eaten a powdered donut. You expect more teasing, but instead he raises his hands your face, well the not ruined parts of it. He does this thing, gazing over, admiring the mess he’s made.
“You do look like a crime scene,” he says. “But,only the prettiest crime scene ever.”
You roll your eyes at him, “Of course you say that, you turned me into this mess!”
“I don’t have to say anything,” this time whispering into your ear, “I say it because it’s true, you’re pretty in my mess.”
You feel the heat start to rise to your cheeks, luckily it would go unnoticed since you’re already painted an unusual shade of pink.
“Idiot, i’m never letting you near my face again.”
we need anton, I need anton jealous clingy soft possessive anton, anton that gets unbelievably angry and confused when he realizes you are suggesting a break up
sorry i've been inactive! busy with school (╥﹏╥)
heheh loveeee this fic so much ohmygod i nEEEDDD HIMMM!! hope this is what you wanted...
the air in the dorm was stagnant, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside and the erratic rhythm of your own heart. you had said it. the words were hanging between you, heavy and jagged, and for a long minute, anton just stared at you.
he didn't blow up. he didn't yell. he just went still—that eerie, unblinking stillness that made him look less like your boyfriend and more like a predator that had just lost track of its prey.
"a break?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, sounding hollow and stripped of its usual sweetness. "you’re saying you want to leave."
"i think we just need space, anton. things have been... intense."
he moved before you could finish. it wasn't aggressive, but it was fast—that deceptive, long-limbed speed of his. suddenly, his shadow was eclipsing you, his large hands coming up to bracket your face. his palms were hot against your cheeks, his thumbs digging into your skin just enough to keep your head tilted up toward him.
"no." his voice was a low, vibrating hum. "no space. i don't want space."
"anton, you're not listening—"
"i am listening" he cut you off, his eyes dark and wide, shimmering with a mix of pure confusion and mounting rage. he looked like a kid who had just had his favorite thing taken away, but the strength in his grip was all man. "i’m listening to you say that you don't want to be mine anymore. why would you say that? did i do something? do i need to hold you tighter? is that it?"
he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged and hot against your skin. he smelled like the rain and that familiar, comforting scent that usually calmed you, but right now, it felt like a cage. he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you slightly off the floor just to tuck your head under his chin, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back his temper.
"you’re staying" he muttered into your hair, his voice breaking. "i’ll be better. i'll stay home more. i'll turn my phone off. but you’re not going anywhere."
you tried to push at his chest, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. he just tightened his hold, his fingers fisting into the back of your shirt, pulling you so flush against him that you could feel his heart hammering against his ribs.
"don't say it again" he whispered, a sharp, desperate edge finally cutting through his soft tone. "don't ever say that word to me again. i don't care how much space you think you need. i'm not letting you go. you're mine, okay? you're mine."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy and obsessed. "say it. say you're staying."
he wouldn't let go until you did. he would stay there all night, pinned to you, making sure the only thing you could feel, see, or breathe was him.
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
discoholicmusic
janainaart
theartofmadeline
2087
