#loser!txt

[gyuuberryy]

brain empty, just you !

loser!txt's reaction to you getting them flustered

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: suggestive content!, making out, kissing, choking(the good kind heh), whiny!txt, stuttering, swearing, down bad!txt

note: finally writing for txt after like 2 years. i did a similar one for enha so naturally i had to do it for txt because they're soo silly. i also had to finish writing this after looking at beomgyu's very motivating recent buff pics omg. enjoy reading!

word count: 3.8k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

YEONJUN

yeonjun tries so hard to play it cool as your boyfriend—all confidence and swagger—but the moment you so much as hold his hand for too long, he’s hiding his face in your shoulder, whining about how "you're trying to kill me!" he’s the type to shamelessly beg for your attention one second, then get insanely flustered when you actually give it to him. he’ll send you selfies captioned "thinking about you, babe ;)" and then shrivel up and die if you call him cute.

and now, as he sits beside you on his couch, watching some random movie, he’s completely oblivious to the way you’ve been staring at him for the past ten minutes. he’s scrolling on his phone, glasses slipping down his nose, occasionally mumbling a reaction to whatever’s on screen. his bare face looks so pretty in the dim glow of the television, lips slightly parted, his brows furrowing every now and then.

he looks kissable.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

you blink, snapped out of your trance. yeonjun turns to you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"like what?" you ask, tilting your head.

"like you're about to bully me."

you let out a soft hum. "i was just thinking."

he snorts. "that’s never good."

you ignore him. "you’re not a very good kisser.".

his entire body goes stiff, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. his phone slips from his grip, bouncing onto his lap, and he blinks at you in pure devastation.

"huh?" he finally croaks out, voice cracking horribly.

you shrug. "i mean, you're just kinda… meh. nothing special."

yeonjun’s jaw drops. he presses a dramatic hand to his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. "EXCUSE ME?!"

you barely hold in your laugh at his utterly betrayed expression. "i dunno, babe. you just kinda suck."

"I SUCK?! i—when? why didn’t you say anything before" he whines, eyes wide with disbelief.

you hum, inspecting your nails. "I was being nice."

yeonjun gasps, clutching his chest like a 19th-century widow. his ears are red. "YOU WERE BEING NICE?! BABY, MY EGO—HELLO?!"

before he can spiral into a full-blown meltdown, you reach up, gently plucking his glasses off his face.

his words die in his throat.

"which is why you need more practice," you murmur.

his breath hitches.

then, before he can so much as process what’s happening, your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him in as your lips crash against his.

yeonjun whimpers.

he goes boneless instantly, melting into you like putty. his plush lips part against yours, kissing you back so desperately, so messily, it’s obvious he’s completely lost in it. your fingers tangle deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a whine—sends heat rushing through you.

it’s a mess. his lips move against yours with a feverish hunger, hands gripping your waist as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. he’s so eager, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you shiver.

when you finally pull away, only because you need air, yeonjun chases your lips with a needy whine, trying to pull you back in.

but then, against your lips, he mumbles in the saddest, most pathetic voice:

"do you really think I’m a bad kisser?"

you lose it.

a laugh bubbles out of you, and you cup his face, pressing a soft peck to his nose. his cheeks are burning, his brows furrowed in genuine distress.

"i was just messing with you, baby," you giggle, pecking his lips again. "i just needed an excuse to kiss you. I literally can’t get enough of you."

yeonjun blinks. once. twice.

then he groans, dramatically collapsing onto your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a clingy koala. "you’re SO mean."

you laugh, rubbing his back. "you love me."

"unfortunately," he grumbles, muffled against your neck.

you smirk. "and you’re a great kisser, by the way."

he peeks up at you, still red-faced, before stealing another quick kiss—like he needs to make up for lost time. and despite his flustered state, you know he’s already planning ways to get back at you… if he ever stops blushing long enough to think straight.

SOOBIN

for someone so tall and broad, soobin is an absolute baby when it comes to you. the man stutters every time you compliment him, avoids eye contact when you so much as hold his hand, and malfunctions if you get even a little bit flirty. he physically cannot handle any form of teasing—his ears turn red, his hands get clammy, and he lets out those pathetic little whimpers whenever you catch him off guard.

right now, though, soobin is doing so well pretending to be normal.

you two are in his kitchen, baking together, and he’s very focused on whisking the brownie batter. his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted, his strong arms flexing with every precise movement. the sight of his broad shoulders tapering into his slim waist is so unfair. the way his biceps subtly shift under his oversized t-shirt?—it’s all so unfairly attractive. he’s doing absolutely nothing and yet, somehow, he’s driving you insane.

you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and burying your face into his back. soobin stiffens. like, completely freezes. you swear you can hear his heart pounding from this position.

then—

"b-babe?" he croaks out, voice cracking violently.

you giggle, tightening your hold around him. "mhm?"

"w-what are you—" he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you press a soft kiss against his nape. his breath shudders. you grin against his skin, pressing another kiss, then another, trailing them slowly up to his jaw. you can feel his entire body trembling beneath your touch, his grip on the whisk turning bone-white.

"b-baby, i—"

you don’t let him finish. instead, you suck gently on the soft skin just beneath his ear.

soobin lets out a broken whimper. his whole body shudders, and you swear he whines when you lick over the spot before sucking again, harder this time. his free hand grips the counter for dear life as if that’ll stop his knees from giving out.

"s-stop," he begs, voice so weak, so pathetic.

you don’t stop. you drag your lips across his skin, finding a new spot to bite down on, leaving another mark, and—

"OH SHIT!"

you pull back, startled, just in time to see soobin staring in absolute horror at the bowl in front of him. he’s gripping a salt container. and he just dumped a quarter of it into the brownie batter.

there’s a moment of dead silence.

then—

"YOU DISTRACTED ME!" soobin wails, turning to face you with the saddest pout you’ve ever seen.

you burst out laughing.

"soobin!" you gasp, holding your stomach. "oh my god, you—oh my god—!"

"this is NOT funny!" he cries, stomping his foot like an actual child. "those were gonna be SO GOOD!"

"they still can be!" you tease, wiping a tear from your eye. "just... y'know, if you wanna die of sodium overdose."

soobin groans, covering his face in shame. "i hate you."

you smirk, stepping closer. "no, you don’t."

"I DO."

"no, you don't."

"i dooooo—"

he cuts himself off mid-whine. because suddenly, he’s hit with an idea.

a horrible idea.

and you see it in his eyes before it even happens.

in the blink of an eye, soobin spins around, trapping you against the counter. his arms cage you in, his broad frame looming over you, and he leans in all slow and deliberate, trying to act like he knows what he’s doing.

"now look what you’ve done, baby," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave.

oh.

oh, he thinks he’s being hot.

the problem is—he looks more adorable than hot, because his ears are bright red, his eyes keep darting to your lips like he doesn’t know where else to look, and the way he’s breathing just the tiniest bit too fast gives away how insanely nervous he is.

then he licks his lips.

(or at least, he tries to.)

because the second his tongue peeks out, he accidentally bites it instead, letting out a pathetic little "ow."

you stare at him.

soobin freezes.

the tension shatters.

then you die laughing, "you—YOU TRIED TO BE SMOOTH AND THEN—!"

"NOOOO, WAIT—!"

but you’re already giggling uncontrollably, fully doubling over against his chest.

soobin groans, hiding his face in his hands. "ugh this is so embarrassing!"

you lift your head, still laughing, pressing a kiss to his flaming cheek. "you’re so cute, baby."

"don’t say that!" he whines, flailing his arms.

but you just smirk. "what? i thought you wanted to be all smooth and confident?"

soobin collapses onto the counter, burying his head in his arms. "i am NEVER doing that again."

you giggle, patting his head. "i dunno, baby. i think it was kinda hot."

soobin lifts his head slightly, peeking at you with hopeful eyes. "really?"

you grin. "no."

he lets out the loudest groan ever.

 BEOMGYU

beomgyu is the absolute worst best friend to have a crush on. he’s loud, annoying, and somehow always finds new ways to make you suffer. he’s clingy in the worst way—stealing your snacks, flopping onto you like a deadweight whenever he’s tired, and absolutely refusing to let you do anything in peace. he always has to be touching you—whether it’s throwing his leg over yours, wrapping his arms around you like a koala, or straight-up lying on top of you like you’re a personal mattress.

but the moment you touch him first? malfunction.

the second you get even a little flirty? shutdown.

and lately, you’ve been having way too much fun testing that theory.

because beomgyu’s been working out.

like, seriously working out.

and god, is it showing.

he’s huge now—his shoulders broader, his arms thicker, his waist still slim but now complemented with solid muscle. you don’t know when exactly he started hitting the gym like his life depended on it, but you do know it’s made play-fighting with him so much harder.

like right now, for example.

you’re on your bed, engaged in an intense pillow fight, but it’s not even fair anymore. beomgyu used to suck at this—he used to wheeze and flail and scream whenever you got the upper hand. but now? now he’s too strong. every time you swing at him, he effortlessly blocks it, laughing at your pathetic attempts to win.

"aw, what’s wrong?" he teases, easily dodging your next swing. "is someone losing?"

you scowl. "shut up."

"no, seriously," he grins, mocking you. "this is sad. like, you’re not even putting up a fight. are you even trying?"

oh, fuck him.

you drop the pillow, launching yourself at him instead.

beomgyu yelps as you tackle him down, using your weight to pin him beneath you. before he can react, you go for the kill—your fingers digging into his sides, tickling him ruthlessly.

"no no WAIT—"

his laughter explodes from his chest, high-pitched and desperate. he squirms, his muscles tensing under you as he tries to fight back, but you’re relentless, giggling as he gasps for air.

 but then, just as your giggles subside, you become painfully aware of two things:

beomgyu looks hot.

you want him to choke you.

the realization hits you like a truck. because holy shit—he’s under you, panting, his face flushed, his arms bulging as they grip your waist, his lips parted just slightly, his brown eyes dark and half-lidded as he catches his breath.

oh.

oh, no.

you freeze, eyes locked on his.

beomgyu, of course, being the oblivious loser he is, just blinks at you, completely unaware of the thoughts flooding your brain.

and then he flips you over.

in one quick motion, Beomgyu has you pinned instead, his thick arm curling around your neck in a chokehold.

your brain short-circuits.

because—

this is exactly what you wanted.

and Beomgyu, still oblivious, leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"what now, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. "you thought you could win? look at you now."

oh, fuck.

your entire body shudders. this is too much. his scent, his weight, the way his arm presses against your throat just right—

"god, this feels so good."

the words slip out before you can stop them.

beomgyu freezes.

and then—

"…huh?"

his grip loosens instantly, and he stumbles back like he’s been electrocuted. his face is burning red, eyes wide in pure, unfiltered panic.

"w-what do you mean—" he gulps. "w-what do you—w-what—h-huh—?"

you blink up at him, suddenly just as flustered.

"uhm—"

"n-no wait—like—" beomgyu waves his arms, looking so painfully distressed. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT FELT GOOD—?"

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his panicked gaze.

and then, because you literally have no other choice, you blurt out, "i think i like you."

beomgyu stares.

he stares.

and then he glitches, mouth opening and closing, hands twitching by his sides, brain fully crashing. his eyes dart everywhere except at you, his entire face a shade of red so intense you’re afraid he might actually pass out.

"you-you like me? like—LIKE ME like me?"

you bite your lip, nodding shyly. "yeah."

his breath catches and he immediately looks away, running a shaky hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to combust.

"h-holy shit—" he mutters under his breath. "oh my god oh my god—"

then—

"WAIT—SO YOU—SO YOU LIKED THE CHOKEHOLD?"

you groan, covering your face. "BEOMGYU—"

he wheezes, hands on his knees. "OH MY GOD—"

you swear he giggles. like, actually giggles.

then he stops and his entire body shudders.

and he whispers, "holy shit, that was kinda hot."

you choke.

"BEOMGYU!"

"you’re a freak," he teases, grinning. "wanting me to choke you and shit—"

"OH MY GOD SHUT UP!"

but when he pulls you into a hug, still laughing, still red-faced and awkward and loser-ish in the best way, you can’t help but smile.

TAEHYUN

taehyun is a very serious tutor. he has strict rules—no distractions, no unnecessary conversations, and definitely no messing around. this is a learning environment, not a hangout session.

he prides himself on his focus, his ability to remain calm under any circumstance. he’s the type of guy who color-codes his notes, has a rigid study schedule, and unironically enjoys doing practice questions for fun. he does not—under any circumstances—get flustered over dumb things like romantic tension.

at least, that’s what he used to believe.

then you happened, and suddenly, his ability to not be a complete loser around you has disappeared entirely.

from the moment he agreed to tutor you in math, things have been an absolute disaster. you’re so unfair. you bat your eyelashes, you ask him to repeat things you already understand just to hear his voice, and worst of all, you stare at him. like he’s some kind of fascinating subject to study instead of the guy desperately trying to keep his composure while explaining differential equations. 

he thought it would be fine—after all, he’s taehyun, and taehyun doesn’t get distracted. but within one week, he realized he was in deep, deep trouble.

because you mess with him. constantly.

like today.

you're both seated at a table in the library, supposed to be going over trigonometric identities. taehyun has the patience of a saint (or so he tells himself), but after fifteen minutes of you not even pretending to be paying attention, he's starting to lose it.

because you're staring at him shamelessly, chin propped up on your palm, eyes locked onto him with a lazy smile playing on your lips.

he tries to ignore it. he really does. his eyes flick to the textbook, his pen tapping against the table in a controlled rhythm. but it’s like your gaze is physically burning into him, and the more he tries to focus, the harder it gets.

finally, he snaps.

"what?" he blurts, gripping his pen so tightly it might explode.

you blink, all innocent. "what do you mean?"

"you're staring at me."

"oh." your lips curl into a slow smirk. "i was just thinking."

taehyun immediately doesn’t like the sound of that.

"thinking about what?" he asks, voice strained.

"how pretty you are."

his pen drops to the table with a clatter.

"i—" he chokes on air, already feeling heat crawl up his neck. he forces himself to focus, grabbing his pen with a death grip like it’s some kind of life support. "th-that’s irrelevant. get back to the problem."

but you? oh, you're evil.

you lean in closer, resting your chin on your hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. "i mean it," you hum. "you’re so cute, taehyun. it’s distracting."

distracting?

oh, the irony.

because you’re calling him distracting while he’s actively trying not to combust on the spot.

"s-stop," he stammers, adjusting his glasses even though they don’t need adjusting. "i—i don’t see how this is relevant to trigonometry—"

"it’s not," you shrug. "but I think you should know how much I like looking at you."

his breathing stops.

and then, as if you haven’t already destroyed him enough, you reach forward and fiddle with the hem of his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

taehyun physically malfunctions.

tis ears are burning, his pulse is racing, and for the first time in his entire life, he has no idea what to do.

and so? he chooses violence.

without a word, taehyun slams his textbook shut, grabs his bag, and bolts out of the library so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet.

"we’re done!" he yells over his shoulder, voice cracking. "see you next week!"

you lose it, dissolving into laughter as you watch him practically sprint out of the building, ears glowing red.

and somewhere, down the hallway, taehyun is muttering under his breath about how this is why he should’ve never agreed to tutor you.

oh, he is never living this down.

HUENINGKAI 

hueningkai has been a mess around you for as long as you can remember.

it’s kind of ridiculous, really. despite being handsome and built like a human teddy bear, he has zero game. like, none at all. he stutters when talking to pretty people (you), trips over his own feet at least twice a day, and would definitely combust if you so much as complimented him unexpectedly.

and the fact that he’s your best friend bahiyyih’s older brother just makes it all the more entertaining. every time you so much as acknowledge his existence, bahiyyih rolls her eyes like she’s watching a romcom in real-time.

it’s adorable, really.

which is why, when he hesitantly approaches you after lecture one day, eyes darting everywhere but at your face, you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to be good.

"c-can you help me shop for hiyyih’s birthday?" he stammers, gripping the straps of his backpack like his life depends on it. "i—i don’t really know what to get her, and you're, um, good at this stuff…"

you smile, amused. "of course, kai. let’s go."

fast forward an hour later, and you find yourself in a cosmetics store, browsing through endless rows of lip glosses.

you hold up two tubes, lips pursed in thought. "i can't decide between these two," you mumble, glancing at kai, who has been hovering behind you like a nervous puppy the entire time.

his eyes flicker to the glosses, then to you, then away, like he’s afraid of looking at you too long.

"uh, i mean—" he stammers, rubbing his neck. "they both look nice?"

you narrow your eyes. useless.

"i need an actual opinion," you huff before popping the cap off one of them. you apply a coat to your lips, then turn to him with a tilt of your head. "how does this one look?"

hueningkai’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

iI—it’s pretty," he says finally, voice cracking on the last syllable.

you suppress a giggle, then glance at the other gloss. "okay, but I need to compare. I can’t put this one on my lips because I already have the first shade on."

he blinks, confused. "oh. uh, so—"

"so I should put it on yours," you finish simply.

his face goes from pink to red in record time. his eyes are huge, lips parting slightly like he just had a stroke.

"w-wait—on me?!"

you arch a brow, feigning innocence. "yeah? so I can see the difference properly. otherwise, we’ll never know which one’s better."

his throat bobs. his fingers tighten around the straps of his shopping bag. "i—uh—"

he looks like he’s two seconds away from self-destructing, but then he nods—barely and stiffly presses his lips together.

you bite back a grin.

he really is a loser.

gently, you lift the applicator and lean in, holding his chin steady with your free hand. his skin burns under your fingertips, and you swear you can hear his breathing get shakier. his eyes squeeze shut, his shoulders tense, and his entire existence is one giant ball of nerves.

but the second the wand makes contact with his pouty lower lip, he starts fidgeting.

"kai, hold still," you laugh, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. his cheeks are burning, and his lips part in surprise as your fingers graze his skin. his entire body locks up, lips parting slightly as his breath hitches. his big, round eyes are glued to your face now, completely mesmerized as you lean in closer.

his lips are so pouty. plush, glossy, glistening under the store’s lights, and suddenly, it feels like your body is moving on its own. before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to his wide, dazed eyes—then down to his parted lips—

and you kiss him.

It’s soft at first—just a press of your lips against his. but the moment you start to pull away, he—to your utter shock—kisses you back.

slow, hesitant, but definitely kissing back.

his lips move against yours in a way that’s both nervous and eager—like he can’t believe this is happening but wants more anyway. his hand hovers near your wrist, as if he wants to hold you closer but is too shy to do it.

and that’s when it hits you.

you just kissed hueningkai. in public.

iou jolt back, eyes wide. "i’m so sorry—i-i didn’t mean—"

but kai? he just stared at you, lips still glossy, blinking like his brain is still catching up to reality. then, slowly—so, so shyly—he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, lips curling into the tiniest smile.

"i... liked that, actually," he mutters, barely above a whisper.

the air turns thick with tension, and you can’t tell who’s more flustered—him, with his red ears and adorably shy expression, or you, with your pulse hammering a mile a minute.

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

and then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, hueningkai clears his throat and asks, "s-so, um… which gloss do you think looks better?"

you laugh, cheeks still warm. "honestly?" you glance at his lips. "i think i like this one better."

and just like that, his face explodes into color all over again.

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taglist: @soobnuuy @moafloribunda @lunalovesstories @firstclassjaylee @levandright @fancypeacepersona @mirouie @gaonashi @firstclassjaylee @kkamismom12 @evandsolo

[gyuuberryy]

still rolling

pairing: txt x actress!reader

genre: enemies to lovers(most of the members), angst, fluff

warnings: lots of kissing, some swearing, mentions of crying

note: this was requested! i hope you like it <3

word count: 3.4k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

YEONJUN

you weren't supposed to get under his skin. that was the whole problem.

when they first told him about you joining the show, he smirked and shrugged—just another pretty face to charm for the cameras. but then you walked in with that quiet confidence, not even glancing his way, and something in his chest twisted weirdly. he hated it immediately.

the first time you snapped back at him during filming, his brain short circuited. no one talked to choi yeonjun like that—not staff, not seniors, definitely not some guest actress. your comebacks were sharp as knives, delivered with this infuriating little smile that made his fingers twitch. he caught himself staring at your mouth too often, hating how his pulse jumped when you raised an eyebrow at him.

"you're staring," you said once during a break, not even looking up from your phone.

"you're imagining things," he shot back automatically, but his ears burned.

the blindfold game changed everything. he'd planned to mess with you—maybe spin you until you got dizzy, whisper nonsense directions to make you stumble. but when his hands settled on your waist through the thin fabric of your shirt, he forgot how to breathe. you were warm and solid under his palms, and when you instinctively leaned back against him, his throat went dry.

then suddenly, you stumbled. your front hit his chest, his arms wrapping around you instinctively, and suddenly your lips were brushing his. for the first time in his life, yeonjun froze completely. your breath smelled like the mint gum you always chewed, your eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and—

he kissed you.

it wasn't graceful. your noses bumped, his grip was too tight, someone in the audience shrieked. but when you made this tiny, surprised noise against his mouth, something primal in his brain short circuited. he forgot they were filming. forgot they had an audience. forgot everything except how right you felt.

afterward, when the PD was yelling and the other hosts were losing their minds, you just wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and muttered, "well that happened," like it was nothing. like you hadn't just cracked him open.

that was when he knew he was screwed.

the sneaking around started naturally—quick kisses in empty hallways, your hand sliding into his back pocket when no one was looking, him pressing you against dressing room doors while you laughed at how frantic he was. "chill," you'd say, but your fingers would tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

one rainy night after filming, he found you alone on the rooftop. you were leaning against the railing, staring at the city lights, and for once you looked tired and vulnerable. it scared him.

"what are you thinking about?" he asked, coming to stand beside you.

you smiled faintly. "how this is all gonna end."

his chest ached suddenly. he wanted to say something cool, something flirty, but all that came out was, "does it have to?"

the way you looked at him then, soft and sad and knowing,made his stomach drop. you reached up to brush a raindrop off his cheek, and he caught your wrist without thinking, pressing your palm against his pounding heart.

"yeonjun," you started, but he kissed you quiet.

he kissed you like it could change anything. like if he held on tight enough, you wouldn't disappear when the cameras stopped rolling. like he wasn't terrified that once this show ended, you'd fly back to your world and forget all about him.

you never looked at him like he was choi yeonjun, superstar. you looked at him like he was just... yeonjun. and he didn't know how to exist without that anymore.

SOOBIN

every look at you, every action of yours, made him forget how to breathe. it was infuriating. the way you tilted your head just slightly when you were listening, the way your laugh cut through a room like sunlight, the way your fingers tapped against the script when you were thinking—he noticed all of it. and he hated that he did.

because soobin had rules. he didn't blur lines, didn't let himself want things he couldn't have. and you? you were a wildfire in a world that demanded control. you were too bright, too much, too everything, and it terrified him. so he kept his distance. answered your questions with monosyllables, looked past you instead of at you, pretended he didn't see the way your smile faltered when he turned away.

but then there was tonight.

the kiss scene.

it was just the two of you in his dressing room, the script long forgotten, the air thick with something he couldn't name. your lips were parted, your breath warm against his skin, and for the first time, he hesitated. his gaze dropped to your mouth, lingered there like a man starving. he should have pulled away. he should have. but then your fingers curled into his shirt, just slightly, and his resolve cracked.

when he kissed you, it was nothing like rehearsals. it was slow, deliberate, like he was memorising the shape of you. and god, it was real. the way you sighed into him, the way your hands slid up to his shoulders, the way his heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape—none of this was supposed to happen.

he pulled back first, because of course he did. his breath was ragged, his thoughts a mess. you were staring at him with wide eyes, lips still glistening, and he wanted to kiss you again. he wanted to kiss you until neither of you could think straight. but then reality crashed back in, cold and unrelenting.

"we shouldn't," he murmured, even though every part of him screamed yes, we should.

you swallowed hard, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. "why not?"

because you were you. because he was him. because this—whatever this was, could ruin everything. but the words got stuck in his throat. instead, he let his forehead rest against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in.

"tell me to stop," he whispered.

your fingers tightened in his shirt like you were afraid he'd vanish if you let go. he should have stepped back. he should have. but then your thumb brushed the side of his neck, just once, barely there, and his breath caught. it was the smallest touch, but it undid him completely.

"soobin," you whispered, and his name on your lips sounded like a confession.

he wasn't sure who moved first this time. maybe it was him, maybe it was you, maybe it didn't matter because suddenly his hands were framing your face and your mouth was soft against his and god, he was drowning. he kissed you like he'd been waiting his whole life to do it. your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, and he swore his knees went weak.

he wasn't thinking about the script anymore. he wasn't thinking about the cameras or the press or the way this could ruin everything. all he knew was the way your body fit against his, the way you sighed when he nipped at your bottom lip, the way his pulse roared in his ears like a storm.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. your lips were swollen, your cheeks flushed, and he'd never seen anything more beautiful. he should have said something, anything, but his mind was blank, his usual careful control shattered.

you searched his face, your expression unreadable. "was that still acting?"

his chest ached. because no, it wasn't. it hadn't been for a long time. but admitting that meant stepping into something terrifying and unknown, and soobin had spent his whole life playing it safe.

but then you bit your lip, just a little, and he realised—he didn't want safe. not if it meant letting you go.

"no," he admitted, voice rough. "it wasn't."

you exhaled, slow, like you'd been holding your breath for months. and then you smiled—small, real, just for him, and he thought, this. this was what it was supposed to feel like.

BEOMGYU

beomgyu had chaos written into his bones—he alway laughed too loud during serious takes, showed up late to set with sleep still clinging to his voice, looked at you like he knew exactly how much his smirk affected you. and god, you hated it. hated how his fingers lingered when handing you props, how he whispered incorrect translations just to see you flustered, how he stretched during breaks with his shirt riding up just enough to make your throat go dry.

the second mistake happened in a dimly lit hallway after wrap. you were exhausted, he was buzzing with restless energy, and when he backed you against the wall with that infuriating grin, you should have pushed him away. instead, you let his lips brush yours—once, twice, testing—before biting down hard enough to make him gasp. it was supposed to be a one time thing. a stress relief. but then his hands slid under your shirt, warm and sure, and you realised with dawning horror that beomgyu kissed like he did everything else—all consuming, relentless and impossible to ignore.

after that, you avoided him like the plague. threw yourself into work, perfected every line, pretended your skin didn't prickle when he walked by. but beomgyu being beomgyu, he just smirked wider, teased harder, leaned closer during scenes until your breaths tangled. 

"scared?" he murmured, lips grazing your ear. you elbowed him away, face burning, and he laughed like it was the best game he'd ever played.

then came the breakdown scene.

you'd prepared for weeks method working yourself into that hollow, aching place until the character's pain felt like your own. when the cameras rolled, you shattered perfectly. the director called cut, but the tears kept coming, your chest heaving with sobs you couldn't control. the crew scattered awkwardly, murmuring about giving you space.

but beomgyu stayed.

you felt him before you saw him—that familiar presence hovering at the edge of your vision. when you finally looked up, his usual smirk was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. he knelt beside your chair, close but not touching, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn't dare.

"what did you think about?" he asked softly.

your breath hitched. because the truth was lodged in your throat like a shard of glass—you'd thought about him. about the way he'd looked at you that night in the hallway, equal parts challenge and surrender. about how his laughter sounded when it was real. about how much it would hurt when this film ended and he walked away without looking back.

beomgyu studied your face like he could read every unspoken confession. his jaw tightened, and for the first time since you'd met him, his voice wavered. "don't cry because of me."

it wrecked you. this boy who treated everything like a joke, who flirted like breathing, who pretended nothing mattered—he cared. and that was the most terrifying realisation of all.

when you reached for him, your fingers trembling against his wrist, he flinched like your touch burned. but he didn't pull away. just stared at where your skin met his with something like fear in his eyes.

and maybe that was the third mistake— because then you both knew. then there was no going back.

TAEHYUN

you knew he'd be trouble the first time he corrected your line reading. not in a polite or subtle manner, just that sharp, cutting tone slicing through the set's chatter. 

"that's not how someone who's terrified would say it," he said, eyes dark and unblinking. the crew went quiet. 

you smiled your most practiced red carpet smile and replied, "funny, i don't remember asking for your notes."

that was the beginning of the war.

taehyun was infuriating in ways you couldn't articulate. the way he showed up to set already off book when everyone else was still marking their scripts. how he challenged the director's blocking with quiet, logical arguments that somehow always won. worst of all—the way he looked at you after takes, like he could see every single one of your acting tricks and found them vaguely disappointing.

"you're doing it again," he muttered during one rehearsal, his hand gripping your wrist in a scene meant to portray desperation. "that face you make for sad scenes. it's too pretty."

you wrenched your arm away. "maybe if you gave me something real to react to, i wouldn't have to act."

his jaw tightened. you saw something dangerous flash in his eyes—the first real emotion he'd shown you in weeks.

after a particularly gruelling day, you found yourself seated in a secluded corner of the hotel’s bar. you were three drinks in, going over next week's scenes alone in a corner booth when he appeared like some brooding phantom. "you're wrong about the motivation in scene 42," were his first words.

you slammed your script down. "are you fucking kidding me?"

what followed was the most intense argument of your career. you accused him of being a robot. he accused you of being all technique no heart. the bartender edged away nervously as your voices rose. at some point you stood toe-to-toe, so angry you were shaking, and that's when it happened—

one second you were spitting insults, the next his mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. you bit his lip in retaliation and he groaned, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. it wasn't a kiss, it was a battle, all teeth and fury and months of pent up frustration. when you finally broke apart, his breathing was ragged, his lips swollen. neither of you spoke. he just turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your pulse roaring in your ears.

the next day on set was torture. you avoided eye contact, delivered your lines perfectly, pretended nothing happened. except taehyun— god, taehyun kept staring at you with those unsettlingly perceptive eyes. during your intense scene together, when your character was supposed to break down in his arms, his fingers dug into your skin exactly where he'd held you last night. you gasped for real, and you saw the satisfied flicker in his gaze.

it got worse. better. more impossible. your on screen chemistry became so perfect, that the crew stopped to watch your takes. off screen, you found yourself in elevators together, tension so thick you could choke on it. 

once, during a lighting adjustment, he leaned close like he was checking your mic and whispered, "you still taste like that expensive candy," before walking away like nothing happened.

the final straw came when he cornered you in your trailer after wrap. you were removing your makeup when the door opened and there he was, silhouetted against the fading daylight. you opened your mouth to tell him to leave, but he was already crowding you against the vanity, hands braced on either side of you.

"tell me you don't feel it too," he demanded, voice low.

you wanted to lie. wanted to push him away. but his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them, his breathing uneven, and you realised with terrifying clarity—this man who never showed emotion was unraveling because of you.

"fuck you," you breathed.

he kissed you again, and this time there was no anger in it, just raw, terrifying need. his hands trembled as they cradled your face, his usual control shattered. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you felt his rapid pulse where his wrist brushed your neck.

"i hate you," you whispered, fingers clutching his shirt.

he kissed the words from your lips. "i know."

HUENINGKAI

you didn't expect to feel so lost on a film set. after years of perfectly timed smiles and scripted answers, the silence of this small, indie movie’s production unnerved you. the crew moved quietly, no assistants fussing over your hair, no publicists whispering in your ear. just the crisp autumn air and the sound of leaves crunching underfoot as you waited for your next scene.

that was when you noticed him watching you again.

hueningkai had been doing that a lot—observing you with those big, earnest eyes like you were something fascinating but fragile. at first it made you nervous, the way he lingered after takes to ask if you were cold or offer you half his snack. no one did that without wanting something, you thought. but weeks passed, and he never asked for a photo, never mentioned your fame, never treated you like anything but human.

"your hands are shaking," he murmured one afternoon, catching your wrist lightly before a take. his fingers were warm against your skin, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he quickly let go, cheeks pink. "sorry. just—it's chilly today. do you want my sweater?"

you wanted to say no. you'd spent years building walls so high no one could climb them. but his hoodie was soft and smelled like fabric softener, and when you slipped it on, he smiled like you'd given him a gift instead.

slowly, without meaning to, you started looking forward to his quiet presence. the way he always saved you the chair next to his during breaks, how he remembered you liked your coffee (extra sugar, barely any coffee), the little doodles he left on your script margins when he thought you weren't looking. 

one rainy evening, he walked you back to your apartment even though it was completely out of his way, his umbrella tilted carefully toward you the entire time.

"you'll get wet," you protested as water soaked through his left shoulder.

he just shrugged, droplets clinging to his lashes. "i don't mind."

and that was the thing about hueningkai, he said things like that and meant them. no hidden agenda, no calculated charm. just simple, aching sincerity that made your chest feel too tight.

the night everything changed, the set emptied early due to a storm. you were packing up when you heard hesitant footsteps behind you. 

"do you… maybe want to get dinner?" he asked, fingers fidgeting with his sleeve. "there's a place nearby that makes really good kimchi jjigae. if you're not busy, i mean."

you should have said no. you knew you should. but the way he was looking at you—hopeful but ready to retreat, like he was already prepared for you to turn him down, made something in you crumble.

dinner turned into walking through the neon lit streets, shoulders brushing, his laughter warm in the cool air. when a sudden downpour sent everyone scrambling, he pulled you under a store awning, both of you breathless and grinning. his hair was plastered to his forehead, his shirt translucent with rain, and you were struck by how beautiful he looked like this—unpolished and real.

"here," he murmured, shrugging off his jacket to drape over your shoulders. his fingers lingered at your collarbone, and when you looked up, his gaze dropped to your mouth for the briefest second before he flushed and stepped back.

you'd been kissed by co stars with perfect technique, by celebrities who knew exactly how to angle their faces for the cameras. but when hueningkai finally gathered the courage to lean in, his hands trembling as they cradled your face, it was the most nervous you'd ever felt. his lips were soft, unsure and when he pulled away too soon, his whisper was barely audible over the rain:

"was that okay?"

your heart cracked open. because no one had ever asked you that before. no one had ever treated touching you like a privilege instead of a given.

"ask me again," you said, and when he did, you kissed him back properly, fingers tangling in his wet hair. he made this quiet, broken sound against your mouth, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you'd disappear.

later, when he walked you home, he stopped at your door, shifting awkwardly. "i had a really nice time," he said, so genuine it hurt. 

and that was when you realised that he was the only one who said your name like it mattered. like you mattered, not the version of you everyone else saw. when he was near, the constant performance faded, and for the first time in years, you remembered what it felt like to just be.

you were terrified of how much you wanted to keep that feeling.

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