Summary: James and his girlfriend accidentally become the “mum and dad” of Cortis, getting flustered while the boys fully lean into the joke.
Word count: 828
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You didn’t mean to become the unofficial mother of Cortis.
Really, all you did was start dating James — quiet, talented, unintentionally adorable James — and show up at the dorm once with snacks and Band-Aids.
That was it.
But apparently, that was enough for the rest of the members to claim you.
Like today, walking into the practice room with James, fingers loosely intertwined.
Seonghyeon looked up from tying his shoes and immediately shouted:
“MUM’S HERE!”
You froze. James froze. Both of you turned the exact same shade of red.
Keonho spun around dramatically, eyes wide. “Mum!! I hurt my ankle earlier. Look.” He limped toward you with the fakest limp ever recorded.
“You’re walking fine,” you said, squinting.
“I’m emotionally injured,” he corrected.
Martin leaned against the mirror, shaking his head. “Is this how children behave? I’m embarrassed to be related.”
Juhoon didn’t even look up as he stretched. “We’re not related. We adopted them. We had no choice.”
James sputtered. “We?? Since when am I—?!”
Seonghyeon cut him off. “Since the day you brought her snacks like a dad coming home from work.”
Keonho gasped dramatically. “Dad provides.”
James turned to you with a look of pure defeat. “They’re unhinged.”
But you couldn’t stop laughing — which only encouraged them.
Juhoon pointed at the door. “Dad brought mum to practice today. Everyone behave.”
“STOP CALLING US THAT,” James groaned, face buried in his hands.
“Dad is shy,” Martin whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.
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You sat against the wall, watching them rehearse. James kept glancing at you through the mirror — those shy, secret smiles that warmed your whole chest.
The boys noticed.
They always noticed.
During a break, Seonghyeon flopped onto the floor next to you. “Mum,” he said, already breathless, “can you pass me my water?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t you get it?”
He pointed at his leg. “Dead.”
“It’s functioning just fine,” James said as he walked over.
“Dad,” Seonghyeon said with a serious nod. “Fetch.”
James nearly tripped over air. “Why would I— I’m not— NO.”
Martin snorted. “He’s so dad-coded it’s insane.”
“Stop,” James muttered, covering his red ears with his hoodie.
Juhoon sat beside him, patting his back. “Embrace it. You’re the father figure.”
James groaned into his knees.
You nudged his shoulder gently. “You kind of… do act like their dad.”
He looked up at you, betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” you smiled. “Your… mum side?”
He stared at you like you’d committed a crime — then immediately hid his face again as the boys burst into laughter.
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You helped them set up dinner while James microwaved some leftovers. The boys moved around the kitchen like chaotic ducklings.
“Mum, can you cut the kimchi?” Keonho asked.
“Mum, where’s the soy sauce?” Seonghyeon added.
“Mum, he stole my chopsticks,” Martin complained, pointing at Juhoon.
Juhoon didn’t flinch. “Dad, tell him to share.”
“STOP CALLING ME THAT,” James shouted from the microwave.
Silence.
Then Keonho whispered:
“Dad’s yelling again.”
And the room exploded with laughter.
James threw his head back, groaning. “I hate all of you.”
But the pink at the tips of his ears said otherwise.
You wrapped an arm around his waist. “You secretly love it.”
His voice softened. “I only love it because you’re here.”
You blinked.
He blinked.
Martin pointed. “They’re flirting in the kitchen again.”
Keonho covered his eyes. “Parents, please. We’re eating.”
James snatched a towel and threw it at them.
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You and James sat on the sofa while the others played games on the floor. It was loud. Chaotic. Exactly what you’d come to expect.
Without thinking, you rested your head on James’ shoulder. His hand instinctively came up to hold yours.
And of course — of course — Juhoon had to notice.
He turned around, smirked, and announced:
“Okay everyone, lights out! Mum and dad need alone time.”
James choked on air. “JUHOON.”
Martin clapped. “Yay! Family meeting over!”
Keonho jumped up. “Does this mean we get allowance next month?”
Seonghyeon raised his hand. “Can I call mum when I’m sad at 3 a.m.?”
“NO,” James said immediately.
“Yes,” you said at the same time.
James stared at you. “You’re enabling them.”
“I think it’s cute,” you whispered.
He froze. “You… do?”
You nodded shyly. “I like being the mum. And you… you make a pretty cute dad.”
James’s whole face went red as he ran a hand through his hair. “…Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why?” you teased. “Does dad get flustered?”
He covered his face. “I swear I’m going to pass out.”
But his hand found yours again — fingers intertwining, warm and steady.
And from the floor, Juhoon shouted:
“Dad’s blushing!”
The boys cackled.
You leaned into James, giggling.
He sighed dramatically, but rested his cheek on your head.
“Fine,” he whispered. “If they insist… I guess being dad isn’t so bad.”
okay so i may have lied a little… i started writing a skz smau 😭 there’s gonna be 8 parts and each one is with a different member 👀 i might post the first part at the start of next week… (i already have ideas for an ATEEZ smau so that will be coming!!)
Summary: a cozy pottery date with Hyunjin where his art is perfect, yours is a mess—and he loves it anyway.
Word count: 904
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The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped into the pottery studio, the warm scent of clay and paint immediately wrapping around you. It was cozy—sunlight spilling through wide windows, shelves lined with half-painted mugs, bowls, and little trinkets waiting to be brought to life.
Hyunjin squeezed your hand gently. “This is cute,” he murmured, eyes already wandering over the displays with quiet fascination.
“You say that now,” you teased, tugging him further inside. “Wait until you see my artistic skills.”
He glanced at you, lips curving. “I’m excited.”
That made you laugh because he sounded so sincere, like he genuinely believed you were about to create something incredible.
A staff member guided you to a small table near the window and set down two pieces you’d chosen—a mug for him and a small plate for you—along with brushes and a palette of paints.
You picked up a brush immediately, twirling it between your fingers. “Okay,” you said, squinting at the blank plate. “I have no plan.”
Hyunjin, on the other hand, sat with quiet focus, already mixing colors like he’d done this a hundred times before. “You don’t need one,” he said softly. “Just do whatever you feel.”
You watched him for a second. The way his brows furrowed slightly, how carefully he tested colors on the edge of his mug—it was kind of unfair how naturally artistic he was.
“You look like you belong in an art documentary right now,” you mumbled.
He huffed a small laugh. “Stop watching me. Paint.”
“Right, right.”
You dipped your brush into a random color—yellow—and made a small, hesitant stroke across your plate.
…Okay.
Not terrible.
Encouraged, you added more. A swirl. Then another. Then dots. Then… something that was meant to be a flower but very quickly stopped resembling anything recognizable.
Meanwhile, Hyunjin’s brush moved with calm precision. You peeked over again, and your jaw dropped slightly.
“Wait—what?”
He blinked. “What?”
“That’s… insane.”
On his mug, soft pastel strokes blended into what looked like a delicate, dreamy sky, tiny stars scattered across it with careful detail. It looked like something you’d see in a shop and immediately assume cost way too much.
“You literally just started,” you said, pointing. “How is it already a masterpiece?”
Hyunjin glanced at it like it was nothing. “It’s okay.”
“Okay?” You stared at him. “Mine looks like it got into a fight and lost.”
He leaned over to look at your plate—and then smiled.
Not a teasing smile. Not a fake one.
A soft, fond one.
“It’s cute.”
You burst into laughter. “No, it’s not.”
“It is,” he insisted gently. “It looks happy.”
“Happy?” you repeated, incredulous, looking down at your chaotic mix of colors. “Hyunjin, I tried to paint a flower and now it looks like a… a confused sun.”
He laughed quietly at that, the sound warm and low. “Then it’s a very charming confused sun.”
You shook your head, giggling as you added more random strokes. “I’m just committing to the mess at this point.”
“Good,” he said. “I like it.”
You kept painting, less carefully now, just enjoying it. Your plate turned into a mix of swirls, dots, uneven lines, and little shapes that didn’t quite make sense—but somehow, it made you smile.
Every now and then, you’d glance at Hyunjin again, watching the way he worked. He added details so delicately, blending colors effortlessly, completely lost in what he was doing.
“You’re so pretty when you focus,” you said absentmindedly.
His hand paused for a second before he looked at you, ears faintly pink. “You’re distracting me on purpose.”
“Maybe,” you grinned.
When you finally both put your brushes down, you leaned back in your chair and compared your pieces.
“Okay,” you said, gesturing dramatically. “On the left, we have Hyunjin’s breathtaking, gallery-worthy mug. And on the right… my emotional support plate.”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Stop.”
“No, seriously,” you said, picking yours up. “This is… something.”
You turned it slightly, examining the uneven paint and accidental smudges, and started giggling again. “Why does it actually look worse the longer I look at it?”
Hyunjin reached over, gently taking the plate from your hands.
“It doesn’t,” he said.
“It does.”
He studied it for a moment, thumb brushing lightly over the edge. “You made it,” he said simply. “That’s why I like it.”
Your laughter faded into a softer smile. “You’re biased.”
“Obviously,” he replied, meeting your eyes.
There was something in the way he looked at you—so warm, so certain—that made your chest feel all soft and fluttery.
He set your plate down carefully, then slid his mug a little closer to you. “We can match them,” he said. “They go together.”
You raised a brow. “In what universe?”
“In mine.”
You laughed again, shaking your head, but your cheeks felt warm.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He smiled, leaning a little closer across the table. “You’re cute.”
You nudged his arm lightly. “Flattery won’t make my plate better.”
“It already is,” he said.
You looked at him for a second longer, then glanced back at your messy, chaotic plate—and smiled.
“Okay,” you admitted softly. “Maybe I like it too.”
“Good,” he murmured.
Because sitting there, sunlight spilling over the table, paint smudged on your fingers, Hyunjin beside you with that gentle smile—
