Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ IN WHICH you get nervous after dressing up for your boyfriend for the first time in a while..
pairing: bf!keonho x fem!reader.
warnings: none.
flirty keonho (?) x nervous reader.
wordcount: 1,7k.
a/n: hi guys !! just made this silly little story about keonho ⋆˚࿔
enjoy !! kisses ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
You had been sitting in front of your mirror for almost an hour already, surrounded by open makeup products, brushes, hair clips, and clothes you had thrown around your room while trying to decide what looked best. Usually, dates with Keonho were easy.
Too easy, honestly. You would throw on a hoodie, maybe fix your hair a little, add lip balm, and leave the house without thinking twice because he had seen every version of you already. Sleepy versions, sick versions, messy versions, stressed versions. He never cared.
But today you felt different for some reason.
Maybe because he had been teasing you for days about finally taking you to that café you kept sending him videos of. Maybe because he sounded unusually excited about it. Or maybe because you just wanted him to look at you and think wow.
So you tried harder than usual.
Your straightener was still warm beside you while you carefully adjusted a section of your hair again, trying to make sure every strand fell perfectly over your shoulders.
Your dress was already on, a soft pink one that hugged you just enough to make you feel pretty without looking too overdressed, and every few minutes you kept smoothing the fabric over your thighs nervously like somehow wrinkles would suddenly appear out of nowhere.
You leaned closer to the mirror again, checking your eyeliner.
Then your blush.
Then your lashes.
Then everything all over again.
You knew it was more makeup than you normally wore around Keonho, but tonight you wanted glossy lips, pink cheeks, subtle glitter on your eyelids, all the things you secretly loved doing even if you acted like you did not care much about makeup.
Your perfume sat beside you on the table and after spraying it carefully onto your neck and wrists, the sweet scent immediately wrapped around you, soft and sugary. You smiled a little to yourself.
Okay.
You actually looked cute and the last step was the gloss. You pressed your lips together nervously before grabbing your bag.
The confidence lasted exactly until you arrived at the café.
The moment you stood outside the entrance, seeing people through the windows and realizing Keonho was somewhere in there already waiting for you, your stomach twisted painfully.
What if this was too much?
What if he thought you looked weird?
You suddenly became hyper aware of everything. Your lashes. Your perfume. The gloss on your lips. The dress. Even your hair felt wrong now.
You almost checked your reflection in your phone camera again before forcing yourself to walk inside.
The warmth of the café hit you immediately alongside the smell of coffee and pastries, soft conversations filling the space quietly. Your eyes scanned the tables nervously until they landed on him near the window.
Keonho looked up at the exact same moment.
And paused.
You instantly wanted to disappear.
Not because his expression was bad, but because he was staring.
His eyes moved over your face slowly before he smiled, surprised in the cutest way possible.
“Whoa.”
You laughed nervously while walking toward him. “What?”
“You look…” He tilted his head slightly, still looking at you carefully. “Different.”
Your heart dropped for half a second.
Different.
But then he smiled wider immediately after.
“Pretty though.”
Heat rushed to your face so fast it genuinely hurt. You sat down across from him, trying to act normal while your hands nervously adjusted the sleeves of your dress under the table.
“Shut up,” you muttered quietly.
“I’m serious.” He kept looking at you with that soft amused smile that always made you more embarrassed instead of less. “You really dressed up today.”
You tried laughing it off even though your chest felt tight with nerves.
“I just did some normal makeup.”
“No, it’s like…” He leaned back slightly, studying you again. “Fancy makeup.”
You wanted to hide under the table.
The waitress came to take your order thankfully, giving you a few seconds to breathe again, but even after she left, you could still feel Keonho looking at you.
You looked down at the menu again even though you had already chosen.
“What?” you asked after another few seconds.
“Hm?”
“You keep staring.”
“I know.”
That did not help at all.
You finally looked up again only to realize his attention had dropped lower now.
To your lips.
Your stomach immediately flipped.
He kept staring for another second and suddenly all you could think about was the gloss. Maybe it looked weird. Maybe there was too much. Maybe it was smudged.
You pressed your lips together nervously.
“What?” you asked again, quieter this time.
Instead of answering immediately, Keonho leaned slightly closer over the table.
Then he lifted his hand toward your face.
Your eyes widened a little in panic.
His thumb brushed lightly against the corner of your lips before his finger wiped gently across the gloss, removing part of the shine instantly.
“There,” he said simply.
You froze.
“What are you doing?”
He looked completely unbothered as he pulled his hand back.
“I like you better without this thing.”
You stared at him in actual shock.
“My gloss?”
He nodded casually like he had not just erased part of the thing you spent forever applying perfectly.
You let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Keonho!”
He started giggling immediately at your reaction, shoulders shaking slightly while he tried not to laugh harder.
“What?”
“You can’t just do that!”
His grin only widened.
“Yes I can.”
“No, you literally cannot,” you whispered loudly, grabbing your phone camera instantly to check your lips. “I spent so long on this!”
The second you saw the uneven gloss, your embarrassment somehow doubled.
“Oh my god.”
Keonho was still laughing softly across from you.
“It’s not that serious.”
“Yes it is!”
You looked at him with genuine betrayal while trying to fix the gloss carefully using your finger.
“I tried really hard today.”
The words came out more embarrassed than angry, and the second he noticed that, his expression softened immediately.
“Aww.” He leaned closer again, this time gentler. “Babe.”
You looked away instantly, still embarrassed.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” His voice stayed soft now, comforting. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You kept avoiding eye contact while putting the gloss back into your bag.
“You looked at my lips for like ten whole seconds just to wipe it off.”
That made him laugh again.
“Because it distracted me.”
You finally looked back at him and immediately regretted it because he was smiling at you in that stupid affectionate way that made it impossible to stay upset.
“I still like the makeup,” he said quickly after noticing your expression. “Really.”
You stayed quiet.
“I’m serious,” he repeated. “You look really pretty.”
“Even with the gloss?”
He scrunched his face slightly.
“…Okay maybe not the gloss.”
You kicked his leg lightly under the table and he laughed louder this time, immediately reaching over to grab your hand before you could pull away.
“I’m kidding,” he said between laughs. “Kind of.”
“You’re actually awful.”
“But you still came here looking all pretty for me.”
Your face burned again.
The worst part was that he sounded genuinely happy about it.
His thumb rubbed softly against your knuckles while he looked at you across the table, calmer now.
“I just like your bare face too,” he admitted quietly. “That’s all.”
Just being stupidly honest in the most Keonho way possible.
You sighed dramatically while leaning back in your chair.
“You could’ve said it without doing all that.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Well you started it.”
He grinned again before suddenly leaning across the table slightly closer.
“You’re cute when you’re offended.”
You immediately looked away again, hiding your smile this time.
“You’re annoying.”
There was a small pause before his eyes dropped to your lips again.
You narrowed your eyes instantly.
“Don’t touch it again.”
His laugh came out so fast he nearly choked on it.
“I wasn’t gonna!”
You covered your mouth with your hand dramatically while he kept laughing.
“Oh my god, stop looking at me.”
“I can’t help it.”
You groaned quietly, already feeling your embarrassment slowly fading into something warmer instead.
Especially when he kept smiling at you like that for the rest of the night.
🌸 nonidol!keonho x f!reader, smau, fluff fluff fluff, downbad keonho, profanity, jealousy, cuteness, based off of a scene from horimiya the missing pieces
wc: 2.6k
syn: you see keonho sitting too close to another girl? you're sulking. keonho sees you getting help from another man and not him (aka your beautiful boyfriend)? he's sulking.
playlist: jellyous by illit // not cute anymore by illit
The classroom was cold, the chilly autumn breeze entering from the open window made it worse. The sound of flipping pages, the teacher explaining a stanza from a poem endlessly and constant scratch of pencil against paper filled the room. Soft whispers and quiet mutters drifted through the air every now and then.
But, you weren't paying attention to any of it. Your gaze was fixed on Keonho. Your boyfriend. He sat a row ahead, just across from where you were, on one of those stupid individual benches that were technically meant to keep everyone spaced out.
Technically.
Because right now—he wasn’t sitting properly on just his bench. He had shifted. Shifted slightly towards the right…closer to the girl in the row beside him.
You noticed it instantly, of course you did. It wasn’t obvious, not to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. But you were, and once you saw it? you couldn’t unsee it. The girl had shifted her bench too, now closer to Kenohos. The quiet scrape of her bench was easy to miss under the loud voice of the English teacher.
But, now the gap between them? It was gone. Their desks sat angled towards each other, both leaning closer to each other. Your fingers tightened around your pen. You didn’t look away. Keonho leaned in slightly—not even that much, but enough that if someone was to walk between the rows they’d have to squeeze through by a little, he leaned in just enough that his shoulder dipped closer to hers. The girl, too, leaned in mirroring Keonho, like it was natural, like it made sense, like it was routine.
Your gaze was still locked onto them. The girl shifted in her seat but her eyes never left Keonho. Keonho wasn’t even looking at her. They weren’t even talking much. They both were just existing, too close, too…comfortably.
Your pen pressed harder against the page, leaving an indent on it. You didn’t care about the imperfection on your page because all you could see was the way Keonho rested his elbow on the desk—closer to her, the way his head tilted slightly when the girl said something, the way he didn’t move back—didn’t create distance, and what's worse is that he didn’t even seem to think about it. He acted like it was normal.
You were annoyed. You exhaled slowly, forcing your eyes down to your textbook. The words blurred, they meant nothing. The paragraph in front of you might as well have been in another language. Your brain was still up there, still watching, still noticing.
“Is he sleeping on the couch tonight?” The voice came low, from right beside you.
Seonghyeon.
You hadn’t even noticed him lean in, your head turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. “What?” you muttered.
His lips twitched, eyes flicking toward Keonho for half a second before returning to her. “You’ve been staring at him—I mean them for a while.”
“I have not.”
“Mm.”
“I haven’t,” you repeated, quieter this time.
“Right. So that”—he tilted his chin subtly toward the front—“is just… casual interaction?”
Your grip on your pen tightened again. “I’m just looking around.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am.”
Before Seonghyeon could respond—a chair creaked in front of him. Iroha. She turned halfway around in her seat, resting her arms on the back of her bench, eyebrows raised way too knowingly. “Looking at what?” she whispered.
“Nothing.”
Iroha followed your earlier line of sight anyway, and…her gaze landed on Keonho. She noticed the too-close-desks and the not-so-subtle leaning. Her eyebrows lifted higher, slowly—adding a dramatic effect as she looked back at you.
You shook your head immediately, subtle but urgent. You just silently told her—“I know, don't say anything.”
Iroha’s lips pressed together, like she was physically holding back a comment.
Seonghyeon snorted quietly. “Damn,” he murmured. “He’s brave.”
You kicked his chair lightly. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Hyeon.”
“Okay, okay.” But he was still smiling.
Annoying. All of them were annoying.
You looked forward again. Bad idea. Because nothing had changed, if anything—they were closer. Keonho shifted slightly in his seat, his bench scraping just a fraction more forward. The girl didn’t move away, she adjusted with him.
You looked down again, your heart beating harder than it should. You were getting jealous over nothing. Literally nothing. You trusted him—of course you do…so why was this bothering you? He wasn’t even doing anything wrong.
“Yn.”
Your head snapped up, the teacher.
Oh, great.
“Read the next paragraph for the class, please.”
Great timing.
You stood up slowly, fingers tightening around your book as you found the paragraph. Before you started reading, you felt it. Felt Keonho's eyes on you. He had turned around. His gaze landing on you, completely unaware of the internal turmoil you were going through and the teases you just heard from Hyeon
Your expression didn't change. Your gaze didn't soften. Your eyes met his and you glared at him. Just glared. Keonho blinked like he hadn’t expected that.
Good.
You looked away immediately, dropping your gaze back to the page. “‘The ramparts by her hair—’” your voice came out steady and clear like nothing was wrong, like you hadn't just been spiraling for the past 5 minutes or so. You kept reading as if you didn't notice each time they leaned in closer. You didn't look up again but you could feel it—his gaze. He was still looking at you with a slight frown, with an expression that read what did I do?
Good, let him wonder.
The bell rang, and almost instantly chairs scraped against the floor as everyone started getting up, talking over each other, packing their bags, the classroom filling with noise again—everyone was talking about how thrilled they were for the sports day. You sat down, not packing your stuff up just yet.
Footsteps approached and stopped right in front of you.
“Yn.” His voice was clear, closer than before.
You didn’t look up, didn’t respond, didn’t give him anything. A second passed before you noticed the movement—Keonho dropping down in front of you, on his knees, right there. You blinked once but kept your gaze lowered.
“Hey,” he said softly, reaching for your hand, but the second his fingers brushed yours, you pulled away, quick, like a reflex.
There was a small pause, and then from somewhere behind, Seonghyeon snorted under his breath. “Damn,” he muttered. Iroha didn’t even try to hide her grin as she leaned back slightly, “good luck,” she whispered—not to you, but to him—before both of them walked off with the rest, the classroom slowly emptying until it was just the two of you.
The silence felt heavier now. Keonho stayed where he was, still kneeling in front of you. “Baby,” he tried again, softer this time, “what’s wrong?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you shut your book, pushing your chair back as you stood up. “I have to go,” you muttered, already turning, thinking about the signs you had to help Iroha paint, thinking about anything but Keonho.
You took a step but his hand caught your wrist, not rough, just enough to stop you. “No,” he said quietly, standing up now, closer again, "I'm not letting you leave unless you talk to me.”
You let out a small breath, turning back to look at him, but your eyes didn’t stay on his face for long, drifting somewhere past his shoulder, anywhere but him. There was a pause, and then he sighed, softer this time, like something finally clicked. “Is it because I was sitting too close to that girl?” he asked.
You rolled your eyes, small but obvious, and nodded once, your gaze still fixed somewhere on the floor.
Then his hand came up, gently cupping your face, lifting it just enough to make you look at him. “She didn’t have a textbook,” he said, voice quieter now, softer, "I was just sharing. Come on…”
Your eyes didn’t hold his for long, slipping away again, scanning the room like there was suddenly something more interesting everywhere else. The empty desks, the board, the door. Anywhere but him.
He watched you for a second before letting out a small breath, and then he leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, pulling back just slightly, "I'll never share my textbook ever again.”
A small laugh slipped out before you could stop it, shaking your head a little. “it’s okay,” you said, quieter now, softer, “I don’t even care.”
He raised a brow immediately. “Oh, you so do.”
Your eyes snapped to his, offended. “Ew, me? jealous?” you scoffed, pulling your face out of his hand, “Never.”
He laughed, soft and low, and for a second everything felt normal again. “Right,” he said, nudging your arm lightly.
You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile there now as you turned toward the door, and this time when you walked out, he fell into step beside you like nothing had happened, like it was just another day.
But his hand found yours anyway.and this time—you didn’t pull away.
By the time you and Iroha stepped out with the materials to paint the signs for sports day, the corridor had already emptied out a little, most people either heading toward the auditorium or just dragging their feet around. You had the chart papers tucked under your arm, while Iroha carried the paints and brushes.
On the way, you crossed Seonghyeon and Keonho. “Oh by the way, teachers want everyone in the auditorium in fifteen,” Seonghyeon said.
“Yeah okay,” Iroha replied as you both continued to walk ahead.
The two of you pushed through the doors and stepped outside, the air cooler immediately, a light breeze passing through the field. It wasn’t empty, a few people were already there, setting things up, but it was quieter than inside.
You walked a little further out before dropping the chart papers onto the ground, crouching as you unrolled them. The edges curled slightly before settling flat. Iroha set the paints down beside you and got to work almost immediately, opening bottles, picking out brushes, starting on the lettering like she actually cared about how this turned out. You just sat beside her, picking up a brush and dipping it into paint, dragging it along a corner without much thought.
A few minutes passed by, and Iroha had completed a part of it.
“I’m going, you finish this.”
You looked up. “It’s just colouring inside the lines, go.”
She paused, looking at you. “…Have you seen your art grades?”
“Iroha, oh my god, it’s literally colouring.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Go,” you said, shooing her off.
You watched her walk off for a second before looking back down at the chart. Silence settled in a little more now. Not completely quiet, there were still voices in the distance, footsteps here and there, but nothing close. You picked up the brush again, this time actually trying to follow the lines she’d started. Your strokes were slower now, more careful, staying just about within the edges.
It wasn’t bad…but it wasn't great either. It was just fine…we could work with this.
The breeze came by again, chillier this time. You shifted slightly, bringing your legs closer to you, the air hitting your skin immediately. You paused for a second, then kept painting like it didn’t matter.
Another breeze.
You pressed your lips together, dragging the brush across the paper again, but your movements slowed just slightly—your skirt was only making it worse. You rubbed your hands over your legs once, quick, then went back to painting.
You noticed a tall shadow emerge from behind you. You didn’t pay much attention to it at first, assuming it was just someone walking by.
And suddenly something dropped onto your lap. You looked down, amused. It was a blazer, you frowned before looking up only to see your senior, Martin. Martin was tall–very tall, and known by everyone for how nice he is.
“Oh it’s just you, Martin please, take it back” you said
Martin chuckled as he replied “Come on, it’s okay. You’re literally freezing and this uniform doesn't help you either. Just return it later okay?”
You nodded hesitantly and smiled at him before bidding your goodbyes. The blazer was on your legs, covering it from the cold. You adjusted it slightly, settling it properly before picking the brush back up again.
You kept painting, your strokes were steadier now, less distracted. And, time passed like that. A couple of minutes, maybe more. The sign was starting to look more complete now, even if the colours bled slightly outside the lines.
Footsteps approached from behind. “You're gonna ruin that if you use too much water with the paint you know.”
You knew that voice, you smiled as you turned.
Keonho was standing behind, hands in his pockets, looking down at what you were doing.
“I'm not ruining it.”
He didn’t respond to that, just stepped a little closer, his gaze shifting from the sign to your lap.
To the blazer.
He paused. “Whose is that?”
You followed his gaze briefly before answering. “Martin’s. He saw I was cold and gave it to me.”
He looked at you as he settled down beside you, his eyebrows raising, “…right.”
And suddenly, he reached down and pulled the blazer off your lap.
“hey—”
Before you could finish, something else landed in its place. His sweater.
You looked at him, “…what are you doing.”
“You're cold.”
“It’s okay–”
“This is warmer.”
You stared at him for a second, then stared at Martin’s blazer that Keonho was wearing now. You sighed as you spoke up again, “…you’re so annoying.”
“Yeah.”
You adjusted the sweater over your legs anyway. “...Thanks.”
He didn’t respond, just looked back at the sign. “You coloured outside the lines over there.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“Iroha did that.”
“No she didn’t.”
You paused. “…Okay maybe i did.”
He giggles quietly as he grabbed a paint brush to help you. Neither of you talked much, just small comments here and there, pointing out mistakes, correcting them, moving around the paper slightly so it didn’t smudge.
After a while, he shifted, pushing himself up.
You glanced at him. “What.”
He didn’t answer. He just reached down, taking his sweater back from your lap.
“Hey—”
He placed Martin’s blazer back over your legs. You blinked, confused. Before you could say anything, he leaned down slightly and pulled you into a quick hug.
He was gone almost immediately. You stared after him for a second. You looked down at the blazer and then at the direction he’d walked off in. You didn’t move for a few seconds, you just sat there trying to figure out why Keonho stormed off so suddenly.
Just as you turned back to continue painting, footsteps approached again.
You looked up and saw Martin.
“Oh—thanks,” he said, nodding toward the blazer.
“yeah,” you replied, lifting it off your lap and handing it back to him.
He walked off and you turned back to the sign, just as you started painting again a familiar figure sat down beside you again. You didn’t have to look, you already knew.
Keonho sat down beside you again, like he’d never left. “…I hope he doesn’t notice.”
You glanced at him. “notice what?”
“The difference.”
“Difference in what?”
“Body heat, I had the blazer on so the sleeves are technically warm”
You stared at him, and scoffed “You're so annoying.”
He giggles as he puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “You like me like that though.”
You roll your eyes, “Unfortunately.”
But, while you and Keonho are being all cutesy, Martin stands in his classroom wondering how you got the sleeves of his blazer warm even though you had the blazer just covering your legs.
Pairings:: Keonho x F!6th member illit reader
Genre:: slow burn, fluff, backstage romance, idol AU
Warnings:: online attention, awkward flirting, idol stress
WC:: ~1,150-1,250
Synopsis:: A collab between 6th member reader from illit and Keonho from cortis turns into a viral moment when their ending fairy eye contact steals the entire stage.
The practice room had smelled faintly like cool air conditioning, convenience store ramen that someone had abandoned two hours ago, and hairspray.
It was almost around midnight.
You sat on the cold practice floor tying your shoelaces tighter while music echoed from the speakers for what felt like the thousandth time that night.
Across the room, Keonho wiped sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck with a towel before bringing his gaze towards you.
"You keep rushing the turn during the second chorus."
You looked up immediately. "I don't."
"You literally just did, I was watching your timing."
"That sounds like you're blaming me."
"That's because I am."
Keonho stared at you for a second before laughing quietly under his breath. Not loud. Never loud.
Just to make you feel strangely victorious. The choreographer had clapped his hands from in front of the mirror. "Again from the partner section!"
Groans filled the room.
You pushed yourself up with a very dramatic sigh while Keonho reached over to carefully steady your wrists before you lost balance.
The touch lasted much more longer than it should have. Still, both of you noticed, but didn't say anything.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳
The collaboration announcement blew up online two days later. Fans were already dissecting the blurry rehearsal photos and videos like detectives solving a national crisis.
"I'm sat."
"WHY DO THEY LOOK SO GOOD STANDING NEXT TO EACH OTHER GUYS???"
"The height difference HELLO??"
You instantly regretted opening social media. Inside the Illit dorm, the members crowded around your phone like tigers spotting their prey.
"Oh my gosh," Wonhee gasped dramatically. "People are already shipping you two."
You dropped face first onto the couch. "I hate all of you."
"Seems like you don't hate him though," Yunah sang.
"C'mon, I barely even know him."
"Then why are you blushing?"
"I'm actually not."
"You actually are."
You threw a pillow at Yunah's face.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳
Meanwhile, somewhere in Seoul, Cortis was being much more unbearable.
Keonho sat quietly scrolling through comments while his members leaned over his shoulders.
"Bro," James wheezed. "This leaked post has 400k likes already and rehearsals haven't even happened publicly yet."
Martin pointed dramatically at the screen. "Wait, pause there."
Keonho frowned. "Why?"
"You looked at her like she was the most cutest thing on this Earth."
The room erupted.
Keonho shoved him away immediately. "You guys are so annoying."
"You're not even denying it though," Seonghyeon whispered.
A water bottle went flying across the room.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳
The very first public rehearsal happened at an award show pre recording.
That was somehow much more worse. There were cameras everywhere, staff running around with clipboards, idols greeting each other backstage.
You adjusted the sleeves of your oversized jacket nervously while staring at the stage monitors.
"You nervous?"
Keonho had appeared beside you so quietly you almost jumped off the stage.
"A little."
"You know the choreography perfectly."
"That's not the scary part you know."
"The cameras?"
"The cameras."
Keonho nodded once like he understood completely. Then he held out a cold water bottle.
You blinked. "Is this for me?"
"You look dehydrated."
Your fingers brushed his slightly, neither of you moved away fast enough though.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳
Practice after that became much more easier.
You started recognizing his footsteps outside of the rehearsal rooms.
Keonho started saving the spot beside him without thinking twice about it.
You guys shared earbuds while reviewing your stage recording, and argued over choreography details, mocked each other's terrible midnight snack choices.
And somewhere in the middle of the exhausting rehearsals and the fluorescent lights in the practice room, being around each other stopped feeling nerve wracking. It started feeling comfortable.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳
The night of the performance arrived much more faster than expected.
The entire venue buzzed with noise, stylists rushed around backstage fixing outfits and microphones while the staff had counted down the remaining minutes.
You stood near the side stage entrance trying to steady your breathing. Your in ear monitor cracked softly. Then Keonho bumped his shoulder against yours.
"You okay?"
You quickly nodded. "Yeah."
He chucked softly. "You look terrified."
"That's because I am."
"You hide it well."
"We'll do fine." Keonho said softly.
Not you'll do fine.
We.
Something about that settled your nerves almost immediately.
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳
The stage lights exploded across the arena.
Music thundered through the speakers, the crowd screamed loud enough to shake the floor beneath.
You barely remembered the opening formation afterward.
Everything blurred together into one:
sharp choreography,
silver lights,
camera cranes moving overhead,
Keonho's hand catching yours perfectly during partner work.
The audience's reaction got louder halfway through the performance, especially during the center duet section.
Your chemistry had become too natural to have to fake anymore. Every glance lingered for half a second longer, every movement looked effortless together.
And fans noticed, of course they noticed.
Then came the ending pose.
Confetti drifted down slowly as the music slowly faded. You and Keonho held your positions, breathing slightly uneven, still caught in the intensity of the stage.
A second passed.
Then Keonho turned his head towards you, not fully, just enough to look at you.
His expression softened in a way that didn't match the stage anymore. Like the performance ended for everyone else... except for you two.
You looked back at him without thinking.
And for a brief, unguarded moment, you guys just... stayed like that.
No camera awareness, no choreography, just eye contact that felt too quiet to belong in a roaring arena.
The crowd had noticed immediately, screams spiked.
Fans online would later on call this the moment the whole stage "shifted."
And neither of you broke it first.
a.n:: sorry this is short! reblogs are appreciated!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Streamer!Martin x Vlogger!Y/N Miss tada face claim because she my queen
syn: Y/n is a well-known vlogger, popular for her cutsie style and fun vlogs, Martin is a twitch streamer known for his DBD game play and banter with his other streamer friends Keonho and Sean! It's safe to say they have nothing in common, right?
W+I: No warnings, Illits Moka and Yunah mentioned, Hyein mentioned, 8 slides, ignore timestamps LOL DBD and TWD mentioned because im rewatching TWD
2>
A/N: Super short bc I wanted to test this idea outttt, next part will be out mondayyy! also my first smau so feel free to lmk if there is anything I could fix to do better (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
❀⋆.ೃ࿔ paint the town w/ the green lights — mep smau
martin x fem!reader ⋆.˚𝄞 in which CORTIS, an anonymous group of teens at youngsan int. school are on the brink of being caught for their nightly graffiti art because of the class captain becoming a certain somebody’s muse…
( notes .☘︎ ݁˖ ) social media au, featuring members of CORTIS && ILLIT, crack, fluff, includes swearing, classcaptain!reader x graffitiartist!martin, author's note at the end
hii # my first piece of writing YAYY i was getting fomo from all of cortisblr having the silliest n cutest smau fics. i hope it makes sense n that u enjoyyy reading !! any interaction is appreciated and my inbox is always open :P # did this instead of writing my final assignments
synopsis⨾ Y/N, the 6th member, Illit can’t stop thinking about Juhoon from Cortis after seeing him at an award show. With her mischievous teammates scheming behind the scenes, she tries all sorts of quirky, subtle ways to catch his attention—cute mishaps, accidental “run-ins,” and hopelessly over-the-top gestures—but Juhoon, a fresh debutant laser-focused on his career, remains oblivious.
content warnings; slow burn, angst
next chapter . . .
Y/N sank into the stiff folding chair backstage, letting out a long, quiet sigh. M Countdown had been dragging on for hours. Interviews, staged photos, handshakes, smiles for the cameras that felt heavier than usual—it was exhausting. Her legs ached, her voice was hoarse from endless singing, and her brain was operating on autopilot. She rested her chin in her hand, staring blankly at the ceiling lights as if they held some secret code she could decipher.
Her and her group were waiting for all the other performers to be called together. Normally, Y/N didn’t get this bored—there was always some backstage drama, a joke to laugh at, or a Tiktok to film. But today, with a schedule tighter than usual and barely a moment to breathe between stages and photos, the exhaustion was settling into her bones.
“Okay, ILLIT! We’re ready for touch-ups!” a staff member called from down the hallway.
Y/N trailed behind the rest of the members, lazily fixing the sleeve of her stage outfit as they walked through the crowded hallway.
“I’m actually going to pass out after this,” Wonhee groaned dramatically, leaning against the wall like she was seconds from collapse.
“You say that every music show,” Moka teased. “Then suddenly you’re full of energy the second food gets mentioned.”
“That’s different,” Wonhee defended instantly.
A tired laugh slipped from Y/N as they stepped into the makeup room, instantly greeted by the familiar mix of hairspray, powder, and overheated curling irons. Stylists immediately moved around them in a blur, fixing flyaways, touching up eyeliner, and dusting powder across shiny skin while conversations overlapped from every direction.
“I still can’t believe they made us retake that group photo six times,” Y/N muttered as she dropped into the chair in front of the mirror. “My face actually started cramping.”
“Yours still looked normal,” Iroha replied. “Mine looked AI-generated by the end.”
Y/N snorted softly, finally feeling herself wake up a little. She was midway through complaining about how violently bright the camera flashes were when movement near the doorway caught her attention.
At first, she only glanced over absentmindedly.
Then she completely froze.
Y/N liked to think she was immune to attractive idols at this point. She was surrounded by beautiful people constantly—it honestly stopped feeling shocking after a while. Of course she and her members joked around about dating and celebrity crushes, but she’d never actually felt anything serious. Nobody had ever really made her nervous before.
But this—
God.
The boy standing near the doorway was unfairly gorgeous.
He was talking quietly with one of the makeup artists, head tilted slightly as he listened, dark hair falling perfectly over his forehead despite the chaos backstage. Even under the harsh fluorescent lighting, he looked unreal.
She didn’t recognize him.
That alone was surprising enough to pull her out of her exhaustion. Usually she could at least place a face—another idol from a survival show, someone she’d passed during rehearsals, a trainee she’d seen online once. But him? Nothing.
Which honestly made her stare even more.
Not that she meant to stare.
Her eyes would flick back to the mirror for half a second before immediately drifting toward the doorway again, almost against her will. He was still talking to the makeup artist, occasionally nodding along while adjusting the sleeve of his jacket. Every tiny movement somehow made him look cuter. It was ridiculous.
And apparently, Y/N had become terrible at acting normal.
Because without realizing it, she’d slowly twisted around in her chair at the weirdest angle imaginable, one foot still planted near the makeup station while the rest of her body subtly leaned toward the doorway like she was being physically drawn there. She looked completely out of place in her own makeup room.
Which did not go unnoticed.
Yunah paused mid-conversation and slowly turned to look at her teammate with visible concern.
“…What are you doing?”
Y/N blinked. “Hm?”
Yunah narrowed her eyes.
Y/N was sitting frozen with her makeup puff still hovering near her cheek, posture stiff like someone had paused her mid-animation. And every few seconds, like clockwork, her eyes darted toward the doorway again.
Yunah followed her line of sight casually, but by the time she looked toward the doorway, Y/N had already snapped her attention back to the mirror.
Y/N let out an awkward little laugh, reaching for the makeup puff beside her. “I’m just tired,” she said quickly. “Got stuck in my head for a second.”
Yunah raised an eyebrow immediately.
The excuse sounded suspicious at best.
Still, she was far too exhausted to interrogate her teammate properly right now. But judging by the knowing look she sent Y/N through the mirror, she was absolutely planning on bringing this up later.
Unfortunately for her, that only made her look guiltier.
Before Yunah could continue teasing her, another staff member poked their head into the room.
“Okay! Everyone ready to enter the main stage in five!”
The room instantly burst into motion.
Stylists rushed to put finishing touches on outfits, makeup artists shoved products back into bags, and idols scrambled out into the hallway before getting yelled at for being late. Y/N stood quickly, smoothing out her skirt while the members of ILLIT hurried out together.
And then—
There he was again.
The mysterious boy stepped out into the hallway just ahead of them, adjusting the in-ear monitor around his neck as staff members walked around him in a frenzy.
Y/N’s stomach did the same embarrassing flip all over again.
It was actually insane.
She didn’t even know his name.
Yet somehow, walking a few feet behind him suddenly had her hyperaware of everything—the soft sound of his voice when he thanked a staff member, the way his dark hair brushed against the back of his neck when he moved, even the faint scent of cologne that lingered in the hallway for half a second too long.
“Y/N,” Minju whispered beside her cautiously, “are you okay?”
Y/N blinked out of her trance. “Huh?”
Minju looked genuinely concerned. “You look like you’re in pain.”
“I am literally just walking.”
“Sure,” Iroha said slowly, eyeing her from the side.
Y/N frowned. “Why is everyone acting weird?”
The members exchanged glances.
Y/N opened her mouth to defend herself again, only for the boy to glance back briefly after hearing noise behind him.
For one horrible second, their eyes met.
Y/N instantly looked away like she’d committed an actual crime.
the maknae of ive has game at the hybe headquarters.
▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။• (idol au) situationship!martin edwards x idol!f!bisexual!r x situationship!hokazono iroha ss: 18 ss featuring: ive ot6 (+otheridols) disclamer: reader is the maknae of ive, commitment issuez, stella h2h is used as a visual for yn
cold-hearted girl, don’t hurt me like this anymore :(
stupid boy, you keep on begging, but i won’t let you in !
a/n : i loveeee this fic! might be my fav one yet..
synopsis : your group is known for being sweet and nothing less, while your new peer’s known for being the opposite. what will happens when the opposites date?
**
the first time you meet martin from cortis, you’re convinced the universe is playing some kind of joke on you.
because you’re standing backstage at one of the biggest year-end award shows, wearing a soft pink lace dress with bows trailing down the sleeves — literally the most illit-coded outfit of all time — and then he walks by like a walking contradiction to your entire aesthetic.
chains. black cargo pants. a mesh shirt layered under a graphic tee that looks stolen from an early 2000s rocker. silver piercings catching the blue stage lights. hair streaked with white blonde, styled in a messy, grungy way that somehow looks intentional.
he glances at you for half a second — just a blink — and you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
you look away instantly.
your manager nudges you. “don’t be shy. you’ll be rehearsing with him.”
right. the collaboration stage. the one every fan has been screaming about since it got announced. illit x cortis — “glitter riot.” a mix of cute and edgy, sugary and sharp. a performance concept that looked insane on paper but somehow worked when the choreographer showed you.
still, no one warned you that martin was… well… martin.
you’re adjusting your mic when someone clears their throat beside you.
“uh. you’re from illit, right?”
you nearly jump. “oh— yes! i’m— uh— i’m y/n.”
you curse yourself internally. why are you stuttering? you don’t stutter. you’ve survived debut stages, encore lives, and fansign chaos. but suddenly one boy with smudged eyeliner has your whole nervous system glitching.
martin nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “cool. i’m martin.”
you almost laugh. as if you didn’t already know.
silence drops between you like fog. he seems just as unsure as you — eyes flicking to your dress, then to the floor, then back to you.
“i like your style,” he says suddenly.
you blink. “what?”
“i mean— it fits you. it’s… cute.” he scratches the back of his neck. “not cute in, like, a weird way. cute in a— a cool way. not that cute is cool— well it is, but—”
he stops himself.
you smile — actually smile — because watching him unravel might be the funniest thing you’ve seen in weeks.
“thanks,” you say, trying not to giggle. “i like your style too. i could never pull that off.”
he glances down at his outfit. “this? i just threw it on.”
lies. dead, obvious lies. no one who “just throws on” clothes looks that coordinated in grayscale.
“still,” you shrug, “you look cool.”
he goes quiet for a second.
then he turns his head away — but not before you catch it.
the tiniest smile.
**
rehearsals start awkward but end… very much not
at first it’s stiff. your worlds are too different. your group giggles when he walks on set; his members tease him quietly in korean, nudging his shoulders because he keeps glancing at you.
you pretend not to notice.
during choreography blocking, you two are paired for a partner section — a quick spin, a hand-hold, a point toward the audience — but martin keeps messing up the timing.
“sorry,” he mutters after the fourth time. “i swear i’m better than this.”
“it’s okay,” you reassure. “we can go slower.”
“no— i can do it. i’m just— distracted.”
“distracted?”
his eyes flick to your hand in his.
and you get it.
you really do.
it makes your cheeks warm, but your voice stays steady.
“want to try again?”
he nods, jaw tightening in determination.
the next run-through is perfect.
and the choreographer says, “see? you two look good together.”
the entire room goes quiet.
martin goes pink.
you pretend to adjust your hair.
**
the performance is electric
no one expects your energy to match his, but on stage, it happens naturally.
your softness sharpens under the lights; his dark aura brightens just enough next to you. fans scream at every moment you two share — the way he steadies your waist during the spin, the way you grin at him during the camera close-up, the way he mouths “nice job” to you as the stage goes black.
afterward, he pats your head gently. too gently. too naturally.
“you did great,” he says.
“you too.”
and somehow, the sentence that slips out next feels inevitable
“we should hang out sometime. like… after all the award show craziness.”
he freezes.
“yeah,” he says softly. “i’d like that.”
**
you become rookie mcs together
you find out the same day he does — during a media announcement.
you’re practicing in your dorm when your phone explodes with notifications. your members scream.
“y/n! you’re going to be an mc! with martin!”
your jaw drops.
“me? with him?!”
the article headline reads:
“illit’s y/n and cortis’s martin selected as new music program rookie mcs — fans excited for unexpected pairing.”
unexpected is putting it lightly.
but when martin texts you — “did you see?? guess they liked our stage lol” — you can practically hear the smile in his words.
your first day as mcs is chaotic. neither of you knows where to stand. scripts keep being rewritten mid-show. martin forgets a line, panics, and you whisper it to him under your breath while cameras are on the other idols.
after the broadcast, he bows to staff, then turns to you.
“thanks. seriously. i would’ve died without you.”
“you’re doing great,” you say. “really.”
he looks at you for a long moment.
“you make this easier.”
the sentence sits warm in your chest for the rest of the night.
**
feelings grow in small ways
usually it’s subtle.
he gives you his hoodie when your outfit is too thin in the studio.
you fix his hair when his bangs fall into his eyes.
he buys you strawberry milk before every saturday broadcast.
you bring him black hair ties because he always loses his.
he sends you memes at 3 a.m.
you tell him about your favorite hello kitty plushies.
he pretends not to be obsessed with hearing you talk.
your aesthetics still clash brutally — his lockscreen is all neon edits and dystopian filters; yours is pastel sparkles — but somehow you match more than anyone could’ve predicted.
your members tease you relentlessly.
“you LOOK at your phone differently when it’s his name,” minju says.
“you SMILE at your phone differently,” moka adds.
you deny everything.
which is ridiculous, because meanwhile, martin’s members are giving him the exact same grief.
“bro just ask her out,” james groans.
“i can’t just— ask her out,” martin mutters. “she’s cute. and busy. and cute.”
“you said cute twice.”
“because she IS!”
they laugh at him the entire practice.
**
the night everything changes
it’s late.
broadcast filming finished hours ago, but both your groups are doing a joint backstage vlog challenge for fun — behind-the-scenes chaos for fans.
staff is busy. cameras are rolling, but unfocused. members are talking loudly in the foreground, blocking most of the shot.
and you and martin are standing behind them — just barely out of frame.
he’s leaning against a wall, head tilted. you’re standing close, too close to be casual, but neither of you moves.
he holds your hand.
not in a performance way. not in a gimmick way.
just… holds it.
thumb brushing your knuckles slowly.
you look up at him. he looks down at you. and everything feels suspended.
“we’re gonna get caught,” you whisper.
“probably,” he says, completely unbothered.
you try not to laugh. “martin…”
he shifts, stepping closer — hands still linked behind your skirts, your bodies hidden by the chaos of your groups.
“i like you,” he says simply.
your heart stops.
“i’ve liked you since the first rehearsal. and i keep trying to play it cool but i’m terrible at it.”
you swallow. “i like you too.”
he exhales like he’s been holding the breath for months.
“can i—?”
you nod before he even finishes the question.
he presses his forehead to yours. it’s not a kiss. it’s something softer, smaller, safer — but it sends warmth through you anyway.
you don’t realize a staff camera catches the corner of the moment.
not the words.
not the closeness.
just your hands intertwined for half a second before the camera pans away.
**
the scandal breaks
the next morning twitter is a mess.
#martinxy/n
#illitcortisbackstage
“are they HOLDING HANDS???”
dispatch releases an article analyzing the grainy footage like it’s cctv evidence.
comments flood in.
“how is the most dark boy and the most pink girl dating??? this is wild.”
“he looks like he steals street signs and she looks like she collects stickers???”
“honestly kinda cute though.”
“the contrast is insane but i’m living for it.”
your companies panic. meetings are held. statements are discussed.
but unexpectedly — shockingly — the public isn’t mad.
they’re fascinated.
the concept of “grunge boyfriend x fairy girlfriend” becomes a meme overnight.
edit accounts blow up.
fashion blogs call you “aesthetic opposites in the best way.”
and martin texts you:
“are we… trending because we’re holding hands???”
“apparently.”
“should we… talk? about us?”
your fingers shake as you type.
“yeah. we probably should.”
**
the talk
you meet on the roof of the broadcasting building — martin’s idea, which sounds rebellious until he admits it’s because he wanted privacy and fresh air.
he stands there in ripped jeans and a huge black hoodie. you stand there in a cream-colored knit dress.
you look like spring.
he looks like midnight.
and he smiles like he knows it.
“so,” he says quietly. “we’re in trouble.”
you laugh. “a little.”
“i’m not sorry though.”
you blink. “you’re not?”
he shakes his head. “i don’t want to hide that i like you. i know we have to be careful. i know dating isn’t easy for idols. but i’m not pretending i don’t feel what i feel.”
you don’t say anything at first — too busy staring at him, wondering how someone who looks like a walking rock concert can sound so gentle.
“i want to date you,” he says. “for real.”
you breathe out slowly. “i want that too.”
the relief on his face is visible.
he steps forward.
you meet him halfway.
and he wraps his arms around you — warm, surprisingly soft, holding you like you’re something fragile he wants to protect.
you bury your face in his chest. he smells like vanilla and cologne and something unfamiliar but comforting.
“we’ll go slow,” he murmurs. “we’ll be careful. but i’m not going anywhere.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
baratheonpilled
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
snowghoul
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
