okay so hi
a little awkward, but I might've gone MIA for like two months .... my bad 😓😓😓😓
I'm not gonna bore you with the reasons, but along with some things that happened, I lost a lot of motivation for most of my interests and hobbies
but recently, as I've found myself opening tumblr more frequently, my abundance of drafts has started to tempt me more and more, and as a result, I started writing again !! 😼😼💪💪💪
currently, I'm finally finishing up one of my wip (you'll have to guess which one), but I've been wanting to write shorter stories and drabbles, sooooo that's where you lovelies come in 😛😛😛
my requests are open for the first time in like two billion years 🤧🤧 and you're all welcome to start requesting stuff !! 😋
it's something that I'd actually really appreciate, since I've been kind of stumped on starting new projects 😽😽
that's all ! I'm so so glad to be back, and I'm hoping to catch up with some of my past mooties 😛😛😛
here's me inbox ! go nuts 🤪🤪
(even if you don't have a request, I always love talking to you people; feel free to reach out and simply ramble cuz I luh dat 😌😌)
mwah to all of you lovelies ❣️
yeah this is fucking disgusting. pls report @coshercoer for posting absolute filth.
you seriously need to take a fucking step away from your computer and touch some grass. writing nsfw content for minors is NOT OKAY AND WILL NEVER BE OKAY. don’t come at me with bullshit like theyre almost 18! idgaf. ur anticipating writing inappropriate content for them. idc if ur the same age as them or younger. if you don’t see why sexualising them is wrong you need HELP and morals in your life.
i’m a 2010, u dont see me thirsting over them or writing nsfw content. and i will create a comparison because clearly i’m mature enough to know WHAT IS RIGHT and what is WRONG. i have moots younger than me and the same age as me too, they too understand. you’re FIFTEEN, theres more to life than getting laid and fantasising about minors (again, i dont CARE that you’re a minor, frankly you shouldn’t be writing this fucking filth in the first place.)
also including you writinf for louis, that boys like 15💀💀💀💀
people driven by lust disgust me. everyone in the comments of this account disgust me even more. i hate what some coers are becoming.
tagging my moots to let the word spread cus wtf girl💀💀 @hyuneskkami @cortismoon @ceesqu4red @ceuxnoirst @jjuhyeon @j4eyxn @jjuhyeons @julepiee @tateholic @marsgirltyshi @wukiyo
"I am fifteen fucking years old." uhmmmm okay ??????
in what possible way does that explain or excuse your actions? jesus christ, saying that you find it okay just because you're younger is ridiculous. you could be younger, you could be older, you could be born the exact same day as them; it would not justify writing NSFW content about literal minors.
this person can't be so dense as to not realize that it isn't just minors who read the content they create. just because YOU, as the writer, are younger or the same age as them does not mean that the reader is. you being this fifteen-year-old writing self-indulgent content isn't just providing for people like yourself; you are also writing for actual predators.
you might not see a problem with you as a minor writing smut (which you should, by the way), but it's the fact that your content isn't specifically catered to other minors, but to people way older seeking validation in their predatory desires. so when you call the people who see this as a real issue simply "haters" or "assholes," you're validating the adults who want to find an excuse to keep exploiting minors.
in your statement about "truth, regarding everything," you only excuse yourself. saying that this is the type of content you enjoy and want to indulge in, you don't even mention the fact that you aren't the only minor in the equation. all these minors that you write about are too. they're the ones getting sexualised and made into content for not just yours, but anyone's sexual indulgence.
take a good look at your surroundings and realize that you could literally be feeding a predatory audience.
Hi guys I wanted to come on here and talk about user @/coshercoer
They are using their platform to sexualize minors on and off of tumblr they also have a tiktok here
Not only are they sexualizing the barely legal adults in the group but also minors who are only 17 along with Louis from lngshot who is freshly 16 years old.
This behavior is disturbing and also ILLEGAL.
It does not matter if you are younger or the same age as them making nsfw content and posting the content to a broad audience gives adults and predators content to consume and get off to. It’s also dehumanizing and harmful.
The boys themselves are often on social media as well do you really want them seeing all this shit about them?
Keep your perverted thoughts to yourself and away from kids.
okay i’m gonna go on a rampage because this is genuinely disgusting.
bare with me as i ramble because this is important.
i remember blocking this account MONTHS ago and it’s so insane how they’re still active
it is actually crazy to me how some people don’t see the issue with this type of content
“oh but they’re 18”
for starters, this argument is genuinely so creepy. so you mean to tell me that as soon as someone turns 18, sexualization is suddenly okay? it sound like these writers and reader are counting down the seconds til idols turn 18 just to make their sexualization ethically okay and that it’s acceptable now that they’re “legal.”
secondly, in south korea, the legal age is 19, not 18. it’s disrespectful to continuously double down on the idea that “it’s okay cause they’re of age” when they aren’t legally of age in their native country !!
but what haunts me most is the fact that coshercoer doesn’t even try to excuse his behavior. don’t get me wrong, no justification of his actions make them okay, but the fact that he continues to double down when it comes to criticism is just insane. claiming that those that are against this and speak out against his behavior are simply “haters,” when we’re actively trying to stop someone from sexualizing and taking advantage of minors publicity.
which leads me to my next point, the excuse that “they’re 18” doesn’t even register when it comes to this user consider the fact that they also make this content about 09:ers and 10:ers.
i am so disgusted, it genuinely enrages me to see people my age, people YOUNGER than me being so blatantly disrespected and having their public image used for malicious intent. these kids get enough hate and negative attention as it is, which is especially harmful for such young celebrities, but now having people write and create sexual content about you in the name of “support” and “fan appreciation” is beyond damaging.
how can you call yourself a fan of cortis if this is how you act? if this is somehow your twisted way of showing support?
god it makes me so so angry, i feel so sorry for all of cortis and lngshot.
keep your NSFW thoughts away from literal children.
i heavily suggest you block coshercoer and report their account across all platforms.
va händer¿? ── maybe there was something in the air, maybe something had landed in your coffee, but when did juhoon's hair get this curly? moreover, has he ever been prettier? how on earth will you survive this.
── wc 700
sin talking listen to me
how about we ignore that I haven't posted anything for a month and a half ..... gets frickity fracking writer's block the second I go on break TT
fuck him.
fuck him and his stupid hair.
fuck his whole bloodline for crying out loud, they're the culprit for giving him such mind-bogglingly beautiful hair. no, no, we're set on his hair being stupid.
"do you think two each'll be enough?" he asks with his usual mundaneness as he looks down at the tray, which has four oreos and two cups of coffee neatly set on it. he says it with such a laughably casual nature, as if he isn't actively trying to sabotage your sanity.
he looks up from the array of snacks and meets your eyes, the eyes that are already looking at his. JUHOON says your name, wanting to catch the attention that he already has.
he chuckles at your unchanged frown. "what's up with you?"
oblivious. of course, he is. is this some sort of sick game he's trying to play? some cruel joke he's pulling? you sigh in hopeless despair, because yeah, you kind of pity yourself right now.
"are you doing this on purpose?" you accuse, brows furrowed, eyes squinted, one hand on your hip and the other leaning on the kitchen counter.
he scoffs a laugh, not out of mischief, but out of shock. JUHOON'S taken aback by your blunt allegation. and through his laughter and not-so-serious smile, you look dead-serious. "doing what on purpose?" he inquires, with the same smile as he puts down the cookie packet.
you take the tiniest step forward, but you close the distance between you by miles. it's meant to intimidate, whatever that'd do for your cause, but all it does is give you a waft of the new hair mousse he's using, and it's all oak and vanilla in your senses. it makes you smile, much to your dismay, as JUHOON starts laughing at your failing tough-guy exterior.
"your hair's curly," you state, nearly whispering, because now you feel a little silly, with this beautiful giggling at how stupidly seriously you're taking this.
"is that a problem?" JUHOON pries. he's the one who takes a step forward this time, and he has the guts to make contact, letting his hand graze your own.
you can't handle the eyes, his hand, and that hair. you evert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, but that merely eggs him on. he nearly awes, taking the moment to glide that same hand to your side.
he leans down the slightest, planting a kiss on the top of your head, and then landing a peck on your cheek. he wraps his arms around you. your arms take a slow trip to land around his neck as he stays chuckling into your neck in between the occasional kiss.
as you stand there with your dignity sacrificed, you take in the moment. you're standing in your boyfriend's kitchen, the boyfriend that is currently holding you close and giving you all the attention in the world. his kitchen is cozy and filled with the warm light of the setting sun. the room smells of bitter coffee that the two of you managed to burn, and JUHOON'S intoxicating hair products. all you hear is his breathing and sade playing from his speaker, lying on the counter.
suddenly it all hits you; how lucky you feel. it's integrated in the space between you two, in his soft and firm hugs and gorgeous curls. the curls you're running your hands through, the curls that're caressing your neck, the curls you'd never want to lose.
"it makes you really pretty," you sigh into him, too overwhelmed by it all to say something sappier. you feel how his lips mold into a smile against your skin, and that in and of itself makes you smile too. JUHOON leaves the crook of your neck to look you in the eye, to brush a few stray hair strands from your face.
you exhale, smile content. "I just forget how stupidly beautiful you are sometimes."
he laughs, letting your smiles connect in one soft, serene kiss that melts time and space.
maybe it's stupid, perhaps a little silly, but in the simplest ways, he shows you how deep love can really be, even if it is with curly hair.
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va händer¿? ── maybe there was something in the air, maybe something had landed in your coffee, but when did juhoon's hair get this curly? moreover, has he ever been prettier? how on earth will you survive this.
── wc 700
sin talking listen to me
how about we ignore that I haven't posted anything for a month and a half ..... gets frickity fracking writer's block the second I go on break TT
fuck him.
fuck him and his stupid hair.
fuck his whole bloodline for crying out loud, they're the culprit for giving him such mind-bogglingly beautiful hair. no, no, we're set on his hair being stupid.
"do you think two each'll be enough?" he asks with his usual mundaneness as he looks down at the tray, which has four oreos and two cups of coffee neatly set on it. he says it with such a laughably casual nature, as if he isn't actively trying to sabotage your sanity.
he looks up from the array of snacks and meets your eyes, the eyes that are already looking at his. JUHOON says your name, wanting to catch the attention that he already has.
he chuckles at your unchanged frown. "what's up with you?"
oblivious. of course, he is. is this some sort of sick game he's trying to play? some cruel joke he's pulling? you sigh in hopeless despair, because yeah, you kind of pity yourself right now.
"are you doing this on purpose?" you accuse, brows furrowed, eyes squinted, one hand on your hip and the other leaning on the kitchen counter.
he scoffs a laugh, not out of mischief, but out of shock. JUHOON'S taken aback by your blunt allegation. and through his laughter and not-so-serious smile, you look dead-serious. "doing what on purpose?" he inquires, with the same smile as he puts down the cookie packet.
you take the tiniest step forward, but you close the distance between you by miles. it's meant to intimidate, whatever that'd do for your cause, but all it does is give you a waft of the new hair mousse he's using, and it's all oak and vanilla in your senses. it makes you smile, much to your dismay, as JUHOON starts laughing at your failing tough-guy exterior.
"your hair's curly," you state, nearly whispering, because now you feel a little silly, with this beautiful giggling at how stupidly seriously you're taking this.
"is that a problem?" JUHOON pries. he's the one who takes a step forward this time, and he has the guts to make contact, letting his hand graze your own.
you can't handle the eyes, his hand, and that hair. you evert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, but that merely eggs him on. he nearly awes, taking the moment to glide that same hand to your side.
he leans down the slightest, planting a kiss on the top of your head, and then landing a peck on your cheek. he wraps his arms around you. your arms take a slow trip to land around his neck as he stays chuckling into your neck in between the occasional kiss.
as you stand there with your dignity sacrificed, you take in the moment. you're standing in your boyfriend's kitchen, the boyfriend that is currently holding you close and giving you all the attention in the world. his kitchen is cozy and filled with the warm light of the setting sun. the room smells of bitter coffee that the two of you managed to burn, and JUHOON'S intoxicating hair products. all you hear is his breathing and sade playing from his speaker, lying on the counter.
suddenly it all hits you; how lucky you feel. it's integrated in the space between you two, in his soft and firm hugs and gorgeous curls. the curls you're running your hands through, the curls that're caressing your neck, the curls you'd never want to lose.
"it makes you really pretty," you sigh into him, too overwhelmed by it all to say something sappier. you feel how his lips mold into a smile against your skin, and that in and of itself makes you smile too. JUHOON leaves the crook of your neck to look you in the eye, to brush a few stray hair strands from your face.
you exhale, smile content. "I just forget how stupidly beautiful you are sometimes."
he laughs, letting your smiles connect in one soft, serene kiss that melts time and space.
maybe it's stupid, perhaps a little silly, but in the simplest ways, he shows you how deep love can really be, even if it is with curly hair.
sin's masterlist ⅋ schedule ; future fics
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va händer ?¿ Ꮺ SUMMARY
you wake up to the sound of your roommate, and sister, calling you. and martin wakes up to you talking in your native language and is absolutely enthralled
va sa du ‼ Ꮺ GENERAL
ᝰ── spanish speaking!reader | waking up together | martin being obsessed | kissing | cuddling
Ꮺ REQUESTED BY anon
read the request
Ꮺ sin talking listen to me
first of all, check out the banner !! it's a part of my new theme of making banners for my fics 😌😋
secondly, I want to preface that I am not latina. there may be inaccuracies in the language as I used a translator. my last intention is to offend, stereotype, or insult. please, please, tell me if I ever do, so I can rectify my mistakes ۶ৎ
Ꮺ sin's masterlist
it was quiet, wonderfully so. light streamed in from the barely closed curtain, painting you in sunlight. it’s warm under the duvet —under MARTIN'S touch. he’s flush against your back, arms wrapped around you tight.
you’re barely awake, eyes half open, breath shallow with calm. MARTIN'S still peacefully asleep against you, your body following the rising and falling of his chest. even unconscious, he holds you so tight, with such assurance.
you inhale deeply, the rush of air nurturing you into a grounding exhale. you take slow steps to wake up, but after a few long breaths, the sound of music becomes apparent.
the two of you had put on music to fall asleep to. the playlist had ended hours earlier, and the speaker was now playing from the recommended. kiss of life by sade played melodically, bouncing from wall to wall, echoing beautifully —as if it wasn’t actually real, as if part of a dream.
you phone knocked you out of your thoughts, vibrating and peace-disturbing. you groan at the sound, rubbing your eyes in annoyance. who has the nerve to call you at this hour?
begrudgingly, you manage to get yourself loose from MARTIN'S ever-giving hold. his arms stay wrapped around your waist, but your arms are free to roam, and your back is no longer skin to skin with his front.
you take hold of your phone, 7am the time reads, and the contact name la fea shone harshly into your eyes. you nearly chuckle, what could she possibly have to say to you? you click accept, guiding the phone to your ear.
you’re met by an angry voice scolding you. you’re no stranger to your sister scolding you, but what reason does she have to do it at 7am?
“cálmate,” you whine hushed, interrupting her.
“calm down,”
“¿qué te pasa? ¿por qué te has levantado tan temprano?”“what's up with you? why are you up so early?”
your sister being up before 10am is a frowned upon state you hate to find her in, likewise, she hates finding herself in. so what could possibly be more important than preserving this rare peace?
“¡dónde diablos estás!” she shouts.
“where the hell are you!”
you can practically see her hands on her hips through the phone. her silk robe —that you bought her last christmas— comforting her.
“entro en tu habitación y encuentro la cama vacía. ¿en qué pensabas, quedándote fuera hasta tan tarde?”
“I walk into your room and find the bed empty. what were you thinking, staying out so late?”
you chuckle, you don’t mean to, you know it’ll only fuel her angered concern. but it’s hard when the answer is right in front of her.
“¿de verdad crees que he estado de fiesta toda la noche?” “do you really think I was partying all night?”
she grumbles on the other line. “te dije que no iba a dormir en casa.”“I told you I wasn't gonna sleep at home.”
your sister's concern manages to echo out of the safety net of your cell, and it’s stirred MARTIN in his sleep. he’s squinting his eyes trying to adjust to the sunlight spilling in.
his senses slowly come back to him, the sound of don’t dream it’s over by crowded house strumming calm waves against his skin. the faint smell of you tickles his nose, your perfume lingering from last night, your shampoo prominent and welcomed. and then, he hears your voice.
it’s calm and full of a slight laugh, as if you're teasing the other line. the words all blur in his mind before he can register that it’s not english that you're speaking, it’s spanish, and god, it sounds like a song on your lips.
it’s gentle, alluring, fits you oh-so well.
“estoy en casa de MARTIN.”
“I’m at MARTIN'S house”
his name is all he picks up from that sentence. he can’t help the smile on his lips, it’s insatiable and childish with mirth.
“sé que te lo dije. y estoy seguro de que tú también lo recuerdas.”
“I know I told you. and I'm sure you remember too.”
it’s hypnotizing. MARTIN only has a view of the back of your head, he doesn’t get to witness your lips moving, your face processing. he knows it’s probably the most mundane conversation you’re having, but it doesn’t really matter, because whatever your talking about, whoever you’re talking to, your voice, your tone is all the merrier.
“¡incluso dejé una nota en la nevera!” you chuckle.
“I even left a note on the fridge!”
the laugh in your voice. god, he melts right then and there. he’s suddenly too far away, miles from your touch. without a smidge of shame, MARTIN gets closer, sealing the distance you made between the two of you. he’s skin to skin again, clothes being your only barrier.
he feels the rumble of your chest this time as you laugh. he feels as you let your hands caress his tight woven arms around you. the song changes, be that easy by sade sings through the speaker with a gentle hold.
“tengo que colgar.”“I have to hang up.”
MARTIN plants a kiss at the brink of your neck, and then another one in your hair. you chuckle.
“vale, vale, te llamaré más tarde, adiós.”“okay, okay, I'll call you later, bye.”
you hang up, laying your phone back on the nightstand. you can deal with her worry at a reasonable hour, when she’s properly awake.
“were you talking about me?” MARTIN smiles from the crook of your neck. you laugh, turning around to face him. he’s wearing the biggest grin, he looks so proud of himself. “I heard my name, baby.” he nuzzles into you, planting kiss after kiss against your skin.
“maybe I was,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. a blush reaches up his neck and onto his cheeks. his smile turns sheepish, honest.
you kiss him, and it’s all smiles and skin. you’re smiling against him, so is he. it’s blissful, tender with admiration. “you sound good,” MARTIN manages in between teeth and lips. you giggle, lips leaving lips.
“mhm?” you hum.
he nods, lips pink, eyes full.
“¿te gusta mi voz, cariño?” you whisper, planting a kiss on the corner of his lips.
“do you like my voice, sweetheart?”
he giggles, flushed red as he wipes his face with one hand. you laugh at his response, hands threading through his hair.
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he wins. of course he does. he's nothing but comfortable in water; speed and technique merely come with that package deal.
his contestants barely stood a chance next to him, something he never mentions, but it’s obvious from where you're sitting on the bleachers.
the ones that can keep up still never quite catch his tail, and at times he’s even been over a lap before some.
you’re always so proud, standing in the bleachers, applauding with a huge smile on your face. sometimes people give you weird glances, a gesture you can't be bothered with in the midst of your admiration.
you watch as he swiftly gets out of the pool. he takes off his cap and goggles, threading his hand through the strands. he looks around, as if he’s searching for something — someone. but the school team envelops him in a big jumping group hug, distracting him into a fit of celebration.
you smile, sitting back down as you see him excited, still drenched from the pool, hair tousled from the cap.
his grin is wide and cheerful, you can tell he’s proud holding the win for his whole team, for the whole school. your football team is practically useless in competition, so keonho holds the pride of your school on his shoulders, a duty he gladly takes.
betwixt the eagerness of his team, keeping keonho tightly woven in a hug, his eyes rummage through the stands, the unhappy and celebrating coaches, their competition grabbing their bags, cheering parents, angry parents, and then they meet you.
his smile returns brighter, the morning light sparkling in his eyes. you wave sheepishly, hand barely in the air. he quirks his head, motioning for you to come over.
a sharp nervousness cuts into you, but you grab your things; jacket hung over your forearm, bag on your shoulder. you walk down the stairs all the way to the tile. before you can turn to walk over to your boyfriend, he’s already managed to creep his way out of the bundle of swimmers and ran over to your side, so when you turn, you crash into him.
no one falls, no noses break; his hands go to your sides, steadying you. his wet hands soak your blue-collared shirt.
“you’re cold,” you chuckle, shuffling his hands of your sides to spare yourself. he grins, planting a kiss on your cheek.
“hi,” he fawns, his gaze tender.
“who’s this?”
two guys have walked over to you, both in swim-trunks and t-shirts with the school’s logo. he turns towards his teammates.
that same nervous shock spreads through you, an anxiety that burns in your chest.
keonho’s popular. he’s on opposite sides of the social ladder from you. when walking through corridors, it’s as if everyone knows him. he has that pull; he’s the kind of person anyone can like.
you, on the other hand, walk through corridors without anyone having a second thought. you’re the one people ask for notes, the one people go to when they struggle to understand in class. you’re not a people person per se.
how the two of you got together? that’s a question you ask yourself constantly, but things just somehow slipped into place.
you had a group project together, one worth fifty percent of your final grade. after one or two awkward meetings in the library and at your place, you just clicked.
sessions that were supposed to be 30 minutes turned into hours at a cafe, project long forgotten as you talked about your shared love for music. times when you merely had to grab your forgotten jacket at his place turned into an entire night of trash-talking over video games.
the two of you just happened, and it’s the only thing you can thank physics for.
so now, when you stood in front of his jock friends in your thick glasses and dress shirt, you expected rejection — a “who, this?” type of response.
your head sinks, a nervous laugh forcing itself out of your throat. you feel a cold, wet arm wrap around your waist, you shiver, droplets reaching your spine.
“this’s my girl,” he states, a sense of pride in his words. he kisses your head, a peck landing in your hair. he holds you tight against his side, your arm wet now too.
you smile sheepishly, red inching up your neck.
the two chuckle, arms crossing. a slight panic shivers its way through you. but they speak before you can muster excuses.
“jesus, finally we get to match the description to the face.”
you look up to meet their gaze, nerves fading away.
“god, you have to know,” the other speaks, leaning in slightly. “this guy talks about you non. stop.”
“not, non stop,” keonho musters sheepishly.
the teammates look at him with grins. “bro, yes, you do.”
“we could be talking about anything, and this man manages to bring you up.”’
they go on to imitate keonho. high-pitched voice as they reenact instances where they were talking about competition, and he managed to make the conversation about you.
or the time when he started rambling about your newest music project when they were talking about swim trunks.
they make you laugh, all while keonho’s turning redder and redder. he covers his face, rubbing his temples with a big grin.
“alright, well, we gotta get going.” he grabs your waist again, turning you both to walk to the changing rooms.
“hey! don’t steal her form us!” they shout as you leave.
“I’m not stealing anything!” he responds.
he sighs as you snicker. he’s still holding you as you walk — firmly, confidently.
“you talk about me that often?” you inquire, grin wide.
he chuckles lightly. “can’t help it,” he confesses, his words genuine and unfiltered.
you smile, pecking his cheek. his blush deepens, a sheepish grin easing onto his lips.
SUMMARY »
keonho's nervous about showing you, his long-hidden crush, his new haircut, after seeing many failed tiktoks and tragic instagram reels. but in the end, it makes your feelings about him slip, feelings you've both had for one another
KEONHO has seen the videos, the compilations, and he's even witnessed it. his friend getting laughed at by his girlfriend for a new haircut. but this is different. because you are not KEONHO'S girlfriend.
he wants you to be. god, of course he does.
you’ve been friends for what feels like forever, well, since you met that day in kindergarten anyway. and you’ve been inseparable since.
you’ve witnessed the bad decisions, the weird phases and obsessions, the countless crushes, and not to mention the numerous bad haircuts.
but recently, things have almost changed. his glances linger longer than they have before, longer then they should. whenever your skin meets, hugs goodbye, or while practicing handshakes, KEONHO just can’t seem to let go.
and the unintentional touches are almost worse. knees touching under the table, fingers crossing while you walk, arms grazing when you pass. they make KEONHO'S heart skyrocket, blood thumping relentlessly.
he remembers the time he realized his feelings as if it was yesterday. you had a group hangout with some of his friends. and you just kept smiling, laughing in conversation, enthusiastic questions being paused around.
but the thing that really blared the thought into his brain was the crippling anxiety that came with the sight of you joking around with martin. it all came washing over him. the grueling blooming in his chest that only grew as martin placed a hand on your shoulder.
so now, here he is, sight fixed on the small mirror in the passenger seat of james’ car. he’s threading through his hair, the shorter-than-normal strands sending soft pulses to his chest.
"well what if-."
“oh my god!” james whines. hands flexing around the wheel. “KEONHO. you have got to calm down.”
"says you," KEONHO mutters, still fixed on his reflection.
“uughh,” james groans. been ranting for the entire ride. “I swear, you’re so lucky that the coffee shop was on my route, otherwise-.”
“yeah, yeah,” KEONHO shushes, flapping the foldable window up as he flops into the car seat. he sighs, heavy and far too real. they’re only three minutes away now. “god, I just, what if it’s like all the girls say?”
james sighs, feeding into his infinite questions with a soft hum.
“what if this haircut, like, makes all her plausible, what-if feelings for me vanish?”
james sighs, turning a corner. the turn signal clicks in the car like a separate heartbeat.
“Like what if she actually liked me, but this damn haircut changed her mind.”
a silence passes, a moment in which KEONHO takes a deep breath and finds himself laughing at the end of it. his heart is echoing in his chest; his palms are even a little sweaty. you’ve hung out so many times, yet this is how he behaves nowadays.
“alright,” james slows to a stop by the curb outside the cafe. KEONHO turns to look at him, brows furrowed against his awkward smile.
james chuckles. “she’ll love it.” and there’s a sense of sincerity in his tone that he just might be able to believe.
“now get out, I need to get going.”
KEONHO laughs. “thanks man,” he snickers before getting out of the car.
‧₊˚♪𝄞ᝰ──
it's silly, stupid frankly.
but you can’t help the tingle in your fingers, the soft flush on your skin: you’re nervous, insatiably so. each window you pass, you check your hair and the creases in your clothes. it’s difficult not to get fixatated on the idea.
god, things have just been so different lately.
you desperately want things to be normal, casual and oh-so easy; how it used to be. but you feel as if your behavior has really changed along your feelings.
ever since that one hangout. that one time you managed to fall asleep at movie night. you never do really, but exhaustion took over you, school having drained you from enjoying your friday.
and you woke up endlessly coddled. pillows under your head, fluffy blanket over your limbs and a cup of newly made tea sitting on the coffee table. and of course, KEONHO.
your legs were on his lap, his hand drawing circles on your covered calf. he was sipping on a soda that was surely flat, watching home alone at a merely 3 percent volume. it was all so delicate, so insatiably considerate.
and it all just flourished from that, and now, you feel like a whole different person around him, fumbling with your words, suddenly sheepish with every response. it’s been like this for 2 months. you just hate that you can’t act normal around him anymore. that everything feels so much different.
you enter the coffee shop, hoping that you were the first one there, just to give oyu some time to collect yourself. you take of your scarf, dusting off the snow. it’s cozy and warm.
and there’s KEONHO, and he’s standing up and oh my god-.
“hi,” he smiles, having walked over to you from his taken seat.
you feel the heat inch up your cheeks, and it’s for a simple hello.
“hi,” you respond, a smile that you can’t control on your lips.
a beat passes, and it becomes so aparent. his hair. it’s practically the same as before, but you notice the gleam of shine, that beautiful red brown that peaks through in the light.
it was quite untamed before, him often resorting to pinning it back in some way. but it was nowe cut with care, leaving a perfect amount behind so it still had that fluffy nature, that outgrown look without the hassle.
it accentuate him in a way like no other, and it all just melts into this warm painting in front of you.
“I love you.”
the words slip in your throat, and the far too real truth escapes before a much more appropriate one can succeed.
your eyes widen in par with his. and a bubbling, steaming hot anxiety boils at the pit of your stomach.
“-rr hair,” you slur, the r coming out sloppy and comical. “your hair! you cut- you cut your hair.” you point to your own hair to emphasize your point, but your already flushed beyond help and impossibly warm in your jacket. “I love your hair,” you say, shaky and weird.
he lets out a breathy chuckle, one that’s meant to fill undeniable space. his eyes are wide, shocked, and he seems to be just as red as you are. “than-” he coughs. “thank you.”
‧₊˚♪𝄞ᝰ──
did she mean it? why would she have said it if she didn’t mean it? it was an accident. but people can call it a freudian slip, that’d be okay with KEONHO.
his mind was racing, insatiable loud.
I love you.
those were your exact words, and the way you looked at him. enthralled, so deep in thought that it’d be difficult to get you out of it. he can’t begin to describe the sharp heat that filled his heart, an insistent growth inside his ribcage that bloomed to every corner of his body.
and that heat hasn’t left him, it’s stayed lingering at his finger tips when you left the cafe 1 and a half hours ago and it’s still sending soft bolts down your arms here in your living room.
you’re fixed on the video game in front of you, currently winning mario kart by a landslide, but KEONHO can’t focus, can’t put his attention elsewhere, so his controller stays nearly numb in his hands.
“yes!” you cheer, sliding into first place in the last second. “suck it!” you trash-talk, turning to him on the couch.
he smiles, letting his character stay in 12th place.
a beat passes, a soft quiet washing over the two of you.
“you okay?” you chuckle, trying your hardest to ignore the warmth at your neck. he pauses, wetting his lips as the entirety in his body grows again.
he inhales and exhales and then speaks, his words careful.
“did you mean it?”
a choked inhale clogs your throat. he hears the catch in your breath, the thump of your heart.
“uhm,” you hum, looking anywhere but him.
but KEONHO'S far too tired. this back-and-forth, this constant, persistent tension that begs to be soothed. so, despite his plummeting heartbeat and scalding skin, he continues.
“things have been weird between us,” he says, far too quickly, words smushed together.
he hears you cracking knuckles, your strands graze one another when you adjust your hair.
“I know my contribution to that.”
the skip in your pulse, the pull in your body to insist.
“and now..” he pauses. and you look up from his collar, but they catch at his lips before reaching his iris, and he notices, of course, he does. “I think I might know yours, too.”
he’s suddenly closer, hands near, yet not touching. like two mismatched magnets nearing another, this desperate tension that, with just one movement, flips them into correct placements.
you exhale, his eyes so intently wanting. “yeah,” you admit, stomach contorting impossibly.
you see the slight move of his lip, how it dares to form a smile. “yeah?” he says, low and quiet, and his hand is now on your shoulder, and then in your hair; the hair you styled for the intent of meeting him.
his eyes reach yours, such a delicate care intertwined in his pupils. his gaze is a question, an ask to soothe months of pent-up effort. a hand cups your jaw, and you nod, and that’s all he needs.
it’s slow, it’s time-stifling. bones ease, muscles de-strain. KEONHO'S incrediably warm, his skin scolding but touch humid with intent. he smiles against you, obvious and proud.
“you love me,” he giggles, and it eases you into laughter.
your lips disconnect in your grins and mirth. you collapse onto one another, he envelops you, arms tight, hair all in your face. “shush,” you object, faces close, breaths near.
he grins, brows furrowing. “ain’t no way that the woman who loves me just told me to shush.”
you snort, and he reciprocates with a warm chuckle.
AN »
new format !! yippiee
still me though ! don't get confused
(ᵕ—ᴗ—)
lots of love to the lovely request by 09zpzkeonnss, loved writing this
I hope you enjoyed !!
SUMMARY »
seonghyeon's practically your number one fan, and when he finally meets you, he absolutely malfunctions, losing his potential chances. but unbeknowst to him, his failure at acting smooth and nonchalant is what flatters you
GENERAL »
ᝰ── 6th!illit!member!reader | main!vocalist!reader | both are 09 | yearner!seonghyeon | an extensive amount of fumbling on seonghyeons part | 𐔌mutual pining 𐦯
── MASTERLIST
oh my god it's happening. SEONGHYEON'S meeting you. you.
who knew all he had to do was debut in a group of the same company?
alright, there was a bit more to it than just that, but it was really all he could think about in the moment.
he's been a fan of yours since your debut. when he first stumbled upon your music video 'magnetic', while searching for something to watch with his breakfast, he watched it on repeat about five times before remembering that he had a bowl of cereal in front of him.
he was just enraptured by the specific sound your group had. but there was one part he always replayed, in every song you went on to release, he always searched for that distinct part in the track. your part.
you were illit's main vocalist, and god, wasn't it obvious?
you were hypnotizing. it nearly felt siren-like, as if listening for too long would put him in a trance.
ever since he heard you for the first time, he's been hooked. and not just to your incredible visuals and jaw-dropping performances, but to you.
you have this undeniable charm, this radiant warmth. your humble tendencies to blush and deny praise. your professionalism yet easy-going nature in interviews. your elegance on stage, mistakes and mishaps barely affecting you.
SEONGHYEON thought you were so cool.
it sounds a bit silly, like a compliment from a kid to their favorite superhero. but you just were. you had this presence that he oh-so wanted to witness.
a few months after his debut with cortis, his members found out about SEONGHYEON'S celebrity crush.
he shouldn't have been smiling so wide at his phone. of course, they were going to snatch it from him. what they were expecting was probably text messages between a crush, but what they found was an edit of none other than you. it was relentless teasing after that.
but SEONGHYEON was growing nervous. he was finally going to meet you. face to face. this worry was boiling inside of him, insatiable and heartless.
god he was gonna fuck this up, wasn't he?
‧₊˚♪𝄞ᝰ──
today was the day.
cortis was in a practice room, waiting for illit to arrive for their small dance video collaboration. james was stretching, martin was laughing at his phone with juhoon, and keonho was beside SEONGHYEON, endlessly teasing.
"you excited?" keonho said with elongated vowels.
SEONGHYEON sighs, rubbing his temple. "I'm stressed out," he mutters, nearly sheepishly.
keonho laughs at his despair as he springs up from the floor.
"c'mon man, you're lovable!"
he plants his face into his hands, groaning with anguish.
"stop this!" keonho laughs, taking hold of SEONGHYEON'S hands, dragging him up with an unstable wobble. "just be cool, girls dig the mysterious type."
"how the hell am I supposed to act 'mysterious' when I'm her literal number one fan?"
keonho snorts, falling quiet as he doesn't seem to have a sensible answer.
"I'm being serious, did you see my spotify wrapped? number one in the world," SEONGHYEON states, emphasizing punctuation in between words.
the fact makes the rest of them laugh, hysterically at that, but it doesn't itch SEONGHYEON out of his misery.
"god, she'll think I'm such a weirdo!" he complains, tucking his face into his hands. SEONGHYEON has been stressing since this morning, much to everyone else's dismay.
"bro, don't tell her you're a die-hard fangirl," martin chimes in from across the floor. SEONGHYEON looks up from his hands. "just, act nonchalant."
james cackles, queuing SEONGHYEON to give him a squinted glare.
"nonchalant?" juhoon chuckles.
"well yeah!" martin agrees. "y'know: 'oh, I've never heard of you, but you seem cool.' that type of thing!"
"you're ridiculous-" james tries, but SEONGHYEON interjects with a newfound readiness.
"alright," he nods. "no, that might work."
"as if anything'll work," keonho snickers, earning an elbow to the rib by a blushing SEONGHYEON.
as keonho dramatically grabs his side with an exclamation, staff hurries over to collect the group.
"they'll be here any minute," their manager says.
SEONGHYEON is practically sweating at this point. how on earth is he supposed to keep his composure? it's insatiable, really; you're merely human. how bad can it be?
the door into the room opens slowly, and SEONGHYEON'S heart starts doing somersaults; he doesn't even want to begin thinking about how red he must be.
their manager steps in first. they're followed by moka, minju, wonhee, and then you.
oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
it's echoing, blaring in his head. he needs to get himself together. but you're there, and your eyes meet his, and oh lord, you smile at him. soft and genuine.
is this how people feel when their idols notice them in the crowd?
SEONGHYEON doesn't register when the rest of his group bows, the sound of their greetings echoing. james ─who's beside SEONGHYEON─ puts a hand on his back to guide him into a bow. he merely follows the movements.
their managers talk, martin talks, james and keonho do too. but it's all a bit blurry. voices are obvious, but the intention is unclear. they split into groups, two from illit and two from cortis, stepping off. another group steps off, one he didn't count properly.
"SEONGHYEON, right?"
the voice rings far too many bells in him, and a cruel warmth spreads up his neck. his head turns quickly to the nerve-inducing sound. you're smiling, and at him, and god, you're even prettier in person. dressed in baggy sweatpants and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt. it's grungy, yet you're wearing these cute star hairpins and handmade bracelets.
"that's me," SEONGHYEON says in a weird punctuation, far too long after you asked.
"cool," you nod, picking at a thread on one of your bracelets. "I'm-."
"yeah, I know," SEONGHYEON breathes out in a fell swoop. it has the intention of saving time, but when it leaves his mouth, all that it 'intends' is creepiness.
he closes his eyes tight, brows furrowing. one minute in, and you're already signing restraining orders. "that's not-," he tries to excuse, but you laugh, a soft chuckle that easliy gets his heart beating for other reasons. his eyes open to witness the easy smile on your face and the crinkle of your eyes.
"hm, you a fan or something?" you joke, but the comment burns a rocket-propelled grenade-sized hole in his abdomen.
he chuckles. "no, no, I guess I'm just-." okay, now he's just being rude. "I'm just well-educated, I guess." fuck that was cringe. but you utter another laugh.
"okay, SEONGHYEON," you nod as staff drag you to iroha to film. but you give him these eyes as you turn. this look that he can't place. but what he can place is the forest fire burning beneath his skin.
‧₊˚♪𝄞ᝰ──
"and then I said 'I'm just well-educated, I guess'," SEONGHYEON whispers. "what the hell is that?"
keonho snickers in their quiet discussion. the rest of them are filming the 'jellyous' choreography. "keonho, I'm stressing over here!"
"it's not that big of a deal-."
"we spoke for a matter of seconds, and I'm already fumbling."
"nah, you're good, you're good, just," keonho ponders for a few seconds. he claps his hands together quietly enough to not draw attention, as if he just found the perfect idea. "get in a group with her."
"what?-"
keonho continues: "y'know film with her. there's the dance to talk about! so you don't accidentally mention the fact that you fall asleep to edits of her."
SEONGHYEON smacks his arm. "that was one time." but ends up nodding to the idea. "yeah okay-."
"alright!" illit's manager calls out right as they finish the choreography. "let's do, leader with leader and maknae with maknae."
SEONGHYEON freezes for a split second. that's you and keonho. oh my lord-.
"I don't really feel comfortable as 'maknae.'"
SEONGHYEON practically stops breathing. what the hell is he doing.
"y'know, SEONGHYEON is just one month older, I don't think it's fair."
martin bites back a chuckle.
"and either way, SEONGHYEON is way more young-minded, I mean, he's practically a year younger than my mentally."
SEONGHYEON rubs a slow circle against his temple.
"he should do it, not me."
an awfully slow beat passes. he sighs into his palm, insatiably embarrassed to be sitting next to him.
"yeah, I agree," martin deadpans with a sly grin, mischief in his glance. SEONGHYEON wants to die where he sits. their manager looks down at their papers.
"hm, me too."
those bells start ringing again, aggressively at that. he looks up, meeting your steady gaze. "he can be maknae for half an hour, can't he?" you suggest to your manager, and with a sigh, they agree.
‧₊˚♪𝄞ᝰ──
okay, okay, okay.
this is fine, completely fine.
'you're cool,' SEONGHYEON kept repeating in his mind. but he really isn't; he's warmer than concrete on a hot summer day, practically radiating. you were going through the steps one by one for your newest release, 'not cute anymore.'
it was fairly simple; SEONGHYEON nearly knows it by heart at this point, yet he couldn't quite grasp it fully. just not right now. he felt a bit too preoccupied, because despite your voice narrating your moves, he kept focusing on the wrong things.
your mismatched nail polish, the words on the beads of your braclets, the soft shimmer of eyeshadow on your eyelids. he wanted to know what polish you buy, what pearls and thread you prefer working with, the name of the teal and pink colors on your eyes.
“got it?” you asked, smile numbing.
“yeah, absolutely.”
“alright! we’ll go one time all the way through and then we’ll film, yeah?”
SEONGHYEON nodded, smile careful. he felt tense. he really needed to loosen up; he was far too mechanical in his tone, far too stand-offish in his mannerisms. SEONGHYEON wants you to like him, for god's sake; he can’t be acting so strange.
you count the two of you in, the song being naturally quite slow. with a soft exhale, SEONGHYEON focuses properly, eyes narrowed on his own reflection, mouth subconsciously mumbling the lyrics.
alright, okay, absolutely.
you ring like a siren in his head. because you were close, your elbow almost bumps into his more than once. your voice was soft in the whisper you held. your voice is just so remarkable, he could nearly hear the song in your tone.
but he was going to have to set his focus on other things. he can’t expect you to see anything in him if he’s walking around with wide googly eyes, a zipped mouth, and an awkward stance.
“you just must be a fan.”
okay, yeah, sure, it’s fine.
SEONGHYEON acts as if he’s been caught red-handed, cheeks blooming red and eyes growing wide.
“you seem sure of yourself,” he tries to laugh off. but you continue, and god, it's as if you eat him alive.
“hm yeah, I’m quite sure.”
you’re grinning, and it’s killing him. he puts his hands in his back pockets, shoulders awkward.
“you know the lyrics,” you state.
“y’know, I’m just doing-.” he swallows. “just doing what you did, and you muttered the lyrics while you-, so yeah.”
you chuckle, a full, real laugh, and it sends a soft strike of accomplishment beneath his ribs.
“hm okay, sure.”
SEONGHYEON swears he sees you step closer.
“but while I was doing what I did, you were a bit too busy staring to actually observe.” oh my lord he’s perished. “and then you just ─ poof ─ knew the entire thing perfectly.”
it almost seems mean, but your tone, your body language, your breath-taker of a stare is nothing but teasing ─ admiring.
"yeah uhm, yeah," he peeps, a nervous smile infecting his cheeks as his brows furrow.
SEONGHYEON'S red and hot to the touch; his throat feels clogged. here he was thinking he’d barely get a word in with you, yet you’re here bantering with him for crying out loud. it keeps this insatiable tension burning at his skin that he hates just as much as he loves.
“it's okay,” you assure with a calm laugh, your hand coming in soft contact with his bicep, a form of compassion; a sign of comfort. either way, it pumps a palpitating rhythm into SEONGHYEON'S heart. “it’s flattering.”
his heart stops for less than a second. flattering. did he do something right? did he compliment you? all he’s been doing is sputtering out the first thing that comes to mind and standing with tense shoulders.
before he can think through the implications, their manager ushers the two of you to a camera. you’ve been going at it for twenty minutes now, it’s no wonder their urging.
but okay, okay. filming. the next part, and it goes by awfully fast. it feels rushed despite the patience of their staff. because in reality, they spend a good five minutes filming and propping up properly. but his hair still manages to feel imperfect in the nonexistent rush, and his pants feel too saggy in his apparently fast movements.
but he gets through it without too much trouble in the end, and of course, so do you.
why was that so stressful? SEONGHYEON thinks to himself. and why was he breathing so hard?
he threads his hair back, an easy motion, but you step close, and he catches your perfume. soft and fluffy in his presence. it's subtle yet infinitely effective. so of course, his hand decides to hook onto a knot in his hair, and he ends up standing there with his arm up and awkward, wrestling with his hair. you chuckle as he unclasps himself.
"we did it!" you proclaim with a gentle glee, aiming for a high five.
he smiles, meeting your hand with an echoing slap. but as your hands fall to waist height, you linger, finger brushing. mismatched nail polish against humid skin. SEONGHYEON swears his heart implodes as you walk away with that far too real smile.
before he can process the warmth in his chest or the teasing brows that james shoots his way, their manager hoots. "alright guys, that was the last of it."
he sinks along with the pit in his stomach. his eyes land on you as if on autopilot, and you meet his gaze. and it's almost as if you're experiencing the same fall beneath your ribs. his brows grow too heavy, and he has to look away.
it all happens a bit too fast. you bow your goodbyes. voices in unison. it feels like something should happen; that something more was supposed to happen.
SEONGHYEON watches as you wave; you're the last to leave, and it damn near hurts watching. you give him a final glance paired with that easy smile, and then the door closes behind you.
a silence lingers in the thick air. SEONGHYEON chokes on a breathy chuckle. "I fumbled so fucking bad."
exhales and airy laughs are passed through the members.
"plenty of fish in the sea, twinski," martin assures with a tight, puckish smile.
SEONGHYEON scoffs. "what happened to 'oh, don't worry! you'll get her next time!'"
"bro after that fiasco, I don't really think I can."
SEONGHYEON wants to collapse onto the floor. but before he can turn to smack martin, the door opens in urgency.
"so sorry!"
just beat him with the bells, why don't you?
"god, I think I dropped a bracelet."
worn thread and thrifted beads.
"oh, we'll help you-."
"there!" you exclaim, running over to the ring of ribbon, right where the two of you practiced.
SEONGHYEON gets nudged in the shoulder by keonho. he turns his neck to give him a glare, but he's met by every one of his members practically staring him down. juhoon's mimicing a phone to his ear and then points to you across the floor. SEONGHYEON swallows, eyes squinting with nerves.
this could be one of the last times he meets you in person.
he's suddenly pushed by keonho. gliding him against the floor and ultimately, closer to you.
SEONGHYEON chokes out an imprecise calling of your name.
despite the crack in his voice and the heat on his tongue, it perks your attention, and you raise yourself off the floor, eyebrows high on your forehead as you put on your lost bracelet.
"hm?" you acknowledge, guiding him to continue. it catches in his throat, and an overwhelming silence spreads in the space between you two. SEONGHYEON hears how martin clears his throat, and it eases a smile out of him; it loosens his shoulders.
"okay, yeah, uhm," he blabs, and his mind blanks as you watch him with observant eyes.
"you're pretty," he states matter-of-factly, and despite the burn on his neck, it eases a flushed laugh out of you, a gentle smile settling on your lips.
it urges him to continue, so he does, along with the shake in his tone.
"and.." and now he's at a loss for words. he begs himself to find anything sensible inside his brain. but he's blank, and that manages to propel a spiel from his lips.
"and I really suck at this," he laughs as his head lowers.
SEONGHYEON hears the light chuckle that leaves your lips, and suddenly, his embarrassment is worth it.
"and with all this summarized," he gathers himself in a big breath. "I felt that maybe we could.. sometime-, I don't know, uhm."
he meets your gaze, and oh, aren't your eyes gentle. you're wearing this airy smile, like you already know the question, and you seem so glad to give your answer. and its all so easy in the end, isn't it?
SEONGHYEON exhales. "could I maybe get your number?"
it's subtle, but he notices how your eyes light up slightly. it makes a smile utter against his lips.
"of course you can, SEONGHYEON."
"cool," he peeps within his overpowering glee.
SEONGHYEON was insatiable after this. he flaunted your contact info to the other members as if it were a pile of gold. even their staff grew annoyed at him after a few days. oh well, he was happy, so who cares?
let's just hope he doesn't fumble as much on your first date.
── MASTERLIST
── SCHEDULE ; FUTURE FICS
── REQUEST HERE
SUMMARY »
a december morning with your obsessed boyfriend
GENERAL »
ᝰ── non!idol au | smitten!martin | cuddling | kissing | praise
── MASTERLIST
pretty, pretty, pretty.
it feels quite impossible to find another word. you're so at peace, breathing calmly, shoulders relaxed. it's not often you look this way while awake, so MARTIN indulges, staring unashamedly.
he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the soft gap of your lips, the strewn-about strands of hair, the bareness of your face. MARTIN'S smiling, something he can't really control in the presence of you. you have that effect.
MARTIN carefully moves a strand out of your face, and despite his gentle hands, you stir in your unconsciousness. he exhales, giving up on his careful approach as he places his hand to cup your jaw, fingers scratching at the nape of your neck.
you open your eyes, squinting at the ray of morning light that hits your face. you wake up to MARTIN, what a blessing to behold. gaze loving ─ committed, touch gentle and meaningful.
you smile in your dazed, half-awake state.
"hi, pretty," he greets in a raspy tone, placing a kiss on your temple.
you giggle, and red inched up your neck.
"stop glazing me, bro," you mutter, trying to dilute the butterflies in your stomach and the blush on your cheeks.
MARTIN laughs, unbothered at the attempt at nonchalance. he showers you in soft kisses as a response, further reddening your skin.
"okay, okay!" you protest, laying your hands by the sides of his face to stop his movement.
a beat passes, his lips pink from commotion, your face red.
"redo," he demands with a grin.
you bite your cheek to prevent a far-too-wide smile.
"g'morning handsome," you exaggerate.
he chuckles, pecking your cheek. his hair tickles you.
"that's more like it."
‧₊˚♪𝄞ᝰ──
click!
that's the third picture he's taken in the last minute. you're merely existing. sitting by your vanity, putting on your usual makeup with a spot of tea accompanying you, and of course, MARTIN.
he's lying on his stomach on the bed, a canon camera in hand. he's already dressed, baggy pants and silver jewelry adorning him.
click!
you're wearing a shirt of his, an oversized t-shirt that matches the rest of your outfit perfectly. MARTIN'S giggly with devotion. you're just so insatiably pretty.
click!
MARTIN'S been aching for a date night. and now with winter break finally here, he's ecstatic. you're going out for a simple lunch at this cozy cafe, where you had your first date.
MARTIN is a romantic at heart. he's even hidden a bouquet in the kitchen, one he bought sneakily yesterday for the occasion.
you're brushing on your mascara, mouth carefully open, eyes a little wide. MARTIN can't help but smile.
click!
"you're so pretty."
you smile in the midst of your action. you chuckle as you put away your mascara.
"my number one hype man, huh?" you tease, glancing over at him, lying out on the bed.
click!
he captures the sheepish eyes you give him.
"always," he grins.
── MASTERLIST
── SCHEDULE ; FUTURE FICS
── REQUEST HERE
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you were both trainees. same company, different groups, but you still drifted towards the other. it was never something obvious; a blatant introduction between trainee groups. no, he stumbled into you, and he still calls it the best mistake he’s ever made.
now, you weren’t the so called “mistake” he made, absolutely not.
the mistake he made had to do with why he was running through the hallways of the bighit building. no crimes were committed, but james did happen to steal a friend’s treasured chocolate bar that he’d been saving all day.
“I’m gonna end you james!” he yelled, the shout echoing menacingly.
“if you’re fast enough!” james taunted, turning a quick corner to reveal a long hallway. he continued, but quickly saw the dead end it led to. he quickly turned around. the betrayed friend hadn’t rounded the corner yet.
he inhaled deeply before grabbing the first doorknob he reached, and thankfully, it was open.
he closed the door behind him, locking it in the process. a deep exhale left him, exhausted from running. he heard the hurried steps of sprinting on the other side of the wood, but they passed quickly, evidently not having seen him.
he turned, eyes shut tight as he leaned against the door. it seems serious, agonizing, but he was chuckling through his pants, a grin on his mouth.
it took him a minute to collect himself, and when he finally regained a sliver of awareness, he heard music. music that crawled up his arms and into his temple with an inviting, sultry.
he opened his eyes slow and careful, almost as if slight movement would make the song disappear.
that’s when he saw you for the first time. sitting cross-legged in an office chair, hunched over a setup. you were wearing headphones, one pulled out of the ear facing him.
you had your fingers over a laptop connected to screens and modifiers, and he sees the tabs of notes and soundwaves across the two monitors.
“hi?” you chuckled, brows laced with confusion.
his heavy breaths continued, air now uneven as his sight latched onto your face. he’s left, quite literally speechless. you were gorgeous. hair peeking out from your hood, eyes enchanting, talent unbelievable.
“you-,” he tried, but words had difficulty forming on his tongue. “you, uhm, you-.”
you laughed, and he gave up.
“yeah,” you smiled, clicking on the space on your keyboard; the music stopped. “I made it,” you said sheepishly.
he nodded frantically, hands trying to find a suitable place to stay. “that’s.” he pauses. “that’s cool.”
he spent 3 hours in that studio with you. after he had finally managed to get a flow going, words eventually coming out of his mouth, the two of you talked on and on. you discussed your multiple music projects, and you showed him the songs you wrote.
you talked about your respective trainee programs and your choreographers and teachers. everything between you and him just clicked. there were minutes spent in mere music, not a word uttered, and it was all incredibly comfortable.
he was fascinated by you in an instant. it wasn’t hard to get enthralled by your character. your charm and easy-going nature that made everything else seem so far away.
it was only until you received a call from a fellow trainee that an extra dance practice session was added to the schedule, that the two of you even thought of the outside of the studio.
you grabbed your laptop and belongings in an unwanted hurry. “wish I didn’t have to leave so abruptly.” james watched as you closed down the programs and websites with a quiet melancholy.
he didn’t want you to leave; he didn’t want to leave himself. but within a minute, you were standing by the door, bag on your shoulder. you smiled, gentle and infinitely absorbing. you said your goodbyes, leaving the door open with a slight gap.
he sighed, sinking into the couch. but his sorrow was cut short when he realized he never asked for your contact or even name.
“shit.” he exhaled, rubbing his face with his palms.
he'd made it. he was debuting. and with remarkable people, nonetheless.
for a bit over a month, james had been getting to know the rest of the group. a creepishly tall guy with an energy that matched james' harmonizingly. an awfully quiet kid that was breath-stiflingly funny. and then these two 16-year-olds who quickly became inseparable.
they were all in a practice room, laying on the wood floor. the had just gotten through the choreo yet another time. they were all breathing heavyily, laughing at something martin had abrutly burst out.
james was laying flat on his back, arms and legs spread out like starfish. his beanie was uneven and his pants had been dragged up to the middle of his waist in the midst of his previous commotion. he looked quite ridiculous, and keonho was quick to notice.
“bro,” he laughed, drawing the attention of the others.
it didn’t take long til they had all grabbed their phones to capture the man in all his glory, sweaty and in an awfully awkward pose.
betwixt the outrageous laughs of his members and music still quietly playing in the background. none other than you walked in. in an outfit that marked you ready to train like the rest of them.
because unbeknownst to them, you were also debuting, and you were debuting with them.
you witnessed the chaos that these guys caused as soon as you entered. they were enclosing this exhausted man, the flash of their phones lighting the room with blasts.
you caught a glimpse of the man, and that tired exterior rang a heart-palpitating strike through your spine. it couldn’t be.
“hi?” you chuckled, adjusting your shoulder bag.
they turned, and james lifted up from the floor in a hopeful disbelief, having caught the soft smile in your tone. he was still sitting, legs spread wide as his beanie had slipped down to cover one of his eyes. he looked crazy, pants up so far it looked like overalls.
your eyes locked, and it all became so obviously quiet; everything laid out and bare, the apparent unavoidable.
"how'd you even get accepted so late?" he asked, taking a long sip from his coffee.
you laugh, and he can't help but smile. "well, I was already hired in a way." his brows furrow. you chew on your paper straw.
"I was supposed to be a part of the production of cortis." his eyes widen.
"the writing process and such, recording." you take a sip of your iced tea.
“so it was this one time when I was in the studio, I was recording adlibs and riffs for reference.” james leaned his head into his hand, propping his arm up against the couch.
“and well, your manager was my manager, and he walked in while I was in the booth.”
his coffee was forgotten in his lap, it rests in his hands lazily.
“when I had recorded everything and walked out, he said to me that he wanted me in the group and not just in production.”
he chuckled. “just from hearing your voice?”
you laughed, taking another sip. “apparently so.”
the two of you had just woken up thirty minutes prior to this. james having seen you in the kitchen, attempting to cook eggs. he had ordered for you both. breakfast sandwiches, an iced tea for you, and an iced coffee for him.
you were groggy and insatiably sleep-deprived. his hair was pointing in every which way and he was sloppily dressed. but it all felt so perfect. conversation flowed effortlessly, smiles made blood pressure spike. it was so easy, and you had only known each other properly for two months.
you both knew the tension that rested between you. it was obvious. the stolen glances, the affection in the accidental touches, the blush that meant something. it was all so apparent, it wasn’t something you ignored or denied, it was rather something unrealistic.
but his hand was now on you knee, and it wasn’t an accident, it was palpable, it was real. when you meet his gaze, his face bare, newly awakened and insaitably perfect, it didn’t really matter if it was possible. because either way, you leaned in, and when your lips met his, it all got so blurry, the “unrealistic” wasn’t even real.
it was so honest, the yearning in his touch, the careful graze of his fingers. he smiled against you, a gesture you reciprocated. his hands went your waist, and yours went to his hair. and you’re rudely interrupted by his coffee spilling out onto the two of you.
you yelped, jumping off the couch, and so does he. a beat of silence passed, ice melting onto the cushions, coffee dripping from your clothes, and you laugh, the red of your tinted chapstick contorting against his lips.
an awoken juhoon walked into the living room that second, hair standing up and clothes uneven against his sluggish posture. both of you turned towards him, and he groaned, rubbing his eyes.
“why are you yelling,” he complained, walking to the bathroom.
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝗲𝗱, 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗼𝗽𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲.
𝙖 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙟𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𐔌𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨 𐦯
james hoped he wasn't being creepy, watching you sleep. you just looked so peaceful. relaxed in a way that you never were.
times like these were rare. getting to sleep in the same bed, waking up next to one another. the warning of cameras always made that impossible. but today, there’d be none of that. not until after lunch anyway. so james let himself indulge. indulge in the sunlight that shone on your skin in gold, indulge in the quiet while he could, indulge in you.
it’s been a few months since the “coffee incident”, and james has never been happier. getting to spend every day with you; openly even, now that the rest of the group has found out.
if he was being honest, he was a bit nervous over how you’d fit in, with being added so late. but it didn’t take long til everyone were comfortable with you. you had that kind of effect, it’s quite impossible to not like you. you’re charming, and impossibly humble.
james threaded through your hair, fingers gentle. he didn’t want to wake you, he really didn’t, but when you stirred the slightest, eyes squinting, brows furrowing, he found himself with a soft smile.
“good morning,” he greets, planting a peck on your cheek.
“mhm,” you answer, snuggling into him.
it makes him chuckle, you head now tight against his chest. his hand goes to the back of your head, the other still on your side.
“c’mon,” he whispers. “it’s quite early.”
you sigh into him, melting against the sheets and clothing.
“I don’t think anyone’s up yet if you wanna move to the living room.”
you smile, the thought of newly made toast and tea in soothing quiet flurring a joy in your chest.
“okay,” you sigh.
so now you’re here, snuggled into james on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands and half eaten peice of toast still sitting on the coffee table.
james has one hand in your hair, playing with the strands lazily. snows falling steadily outside, trees covered in white and reflecting bright light from the rays of the morning sunlight.
it was all very domestic. it’s close and warm, so incredibly comfortable.
you lay your head on his shoulder, sighing into the space. he places a kiss in your hair.
“this’ nice,” you say, taking a sip out of your tea.
“hm,” he hums in agreement.
“ew.” you hear from behind you. you sigh a chuckle, turning to see martin walking over, hair in knots, shirt in disarray.
“g’morning, sweets,” you greet.
“morning,” he says while taking your half eaten toast from the table.
you laugh, shaking your head as he starts walking to the kitchen.
he pats your head on his way. “thanks,” he mumbles with bread in his mouth.
james laughs, hitting martin’s arm as he walks. martin slaps his head as seonghyeon walks in.
he’s a little more awake than martin, clothes at least put on the right way. he’s currently spreading hair mousse through his hair, trying to distribute the product as he walks.
you hear him gasp. “it’s snowing,” he states, now standing behind the couch.
you nod, sipping from your cup. “oh right,” you say, remembering your last grocery run. “I bought you the chip things you wanted.”
“really?” you hear the smile in his voice. “thank you, thank you!” he gives your shoulder a slight squeeze before sprinting over to the kitchen.
a mere ten minutes later, everyone’s up and running. chaos circling the kitchen as the four boys try to make breakfast. you and james stay put on the couch, already having eaten.
you exhale into him, mug now empty and laying on the table. “thanks for waking me up so early.”
james laughs. “yeah?”
“otherwise this would’ve woken me up.” you nod backwards, gesturing to the noisy kitchen. “and besides.” you snuggle further into him, laying your head on his shoulder again as the blanket curls into your laps. “I got to spend some time alone with you for once.”
james smiles widely, not able to hide the stupid grin on his face.
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