db0xtae

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐅 𝐖𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏?

𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

genre: fluff, angst-but-not-really, dramatic boyfriends

╰─────── ୨୧ ───────╯

It starts casually.

Too casually.

You’re both doing something normal scrolling, studying, lying on the couch, existing peacefully and then you turn to him and ask, out of nowhere:

“What would you do if we broke up?”

And every single member of Cortis reacts… differently.

Very differently.

⸻

✧ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍 — “𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐟?”

It’s late.

Martin is sprawled across the couch, one arm behind his head, the other holding his phone. You’re sitting on the floor between his legs, back resting against his knees while he absentmindedly plays with your hair.

The room is quiet except for the TV humming softly in the background.

You tilt your head up slightly.

“Martin?”

He hums. “Yeah?”

“What would you do if we broke up?”

His hand stops moving immediately.

Silence.

You can physically feel his stare on the top of your head.

“…What?”

You shrug casually like you didn’t just drop a bomb. “I’m just asking.”

Martin leans forward, fingers gripping your shoulders gently so he can see your face.

“What do you mean if?”

“It’s hypothetical.”

Martin squints at you like you just offended him personally.

“Why are we hypothetically breaking up?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Just answer the question.”

He stares at you for a long second.

Then he leans back slowly.

“I wouldn’t.”

You blink. “You wouldn’t what?”

“Break up.”

“That’s not the question.”

Martin runs a hand through his hair, annoyed now. “Okay but why are we breaking up? Did I cheat? Did you cheat? Did you get tired of me?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! Nothing happened!”

“Then why would we break up?” he presses.

You giggle. “It’s just a question.”

Martin narrows his eyes.

Then he says, quieter this time, “I’d probably lose my mind.”

Your smile fades slightly.

He shrugs like it’s nothing, but his jaw tightens.

“I’d act like I don’t care. I’d say something sarcastic. I’d pretend I’m fine.” He looks down at you. “But I wouldn’t be.”

Your heart squeezes.

Martin’s voice softens. “I don’t do casual. You know that.”

You turn around fully now, kneeling between his legs.

“You’d really lose your mind?”

He cups your face with one hand.

“You’re my person,” he says simply. “I don’t replace my person.”

You melt.

Then, because he’s still Martin, he adds—

“But we’re not breaking up. So don’t ask dumb questions.”

You laugh, leaning into his chest.

“Okay, dramatic.”

He wraps his arms around you tightly.

“Don’t joke like that,” he mutters into your hair.

And he doesn’t let go for a long time.

⸻

✧ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭

James is in the studio, headphones resting around his neck while he adjusts something on his laptop.

You’re sitting nearby, watching him work.

You don’t even know why you ask.

“James?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up yet.

“What would you do if we broke up?”

He freezes.

Not dramatically.

Not loudly.

Just… still.

Slowly, he turns his chair toward you.

“…Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble. “I was just thinking.”

James studies your face carefully like he’s trying to see if you’re secretly unhappy.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No! Oh my god, no.”

He exhales softly.

Then he leans back in his chair, thinking.

“I think,” he says slowly, “I’d respect it.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t beg.”

That hurts a little.

James notices immediately.

He stands up and walks over to you.

“But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be devastated.”

His hands slide into yours.

“I’d probably throw myself into work. Practice more. Write more. Stay busy so I don’t think about it.”

Your chest tightens.

“And every song would probably be about you,” he admits quietly.

Your eyes soften.

James smiles faintly.

“But I don’t think we’d break up.”

“Why not?”

“Because we talk,” he says gently. “And I choose you. Every day.”

You step closer.

He presses his forehead to yours.

“So don’t scare me like that.”

You whisper, “I’m sorry.”

James kisses you softly.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs.

⸻

✧ 𝐉𝐔𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

You’re both lying in bed.

The lights are off except for a small lamp glowing softly in the corner.

Juhoon is tracing lazy shapes on your arm.

“Juhoon?”

“Yeah?”

“What would you do if we broke up?”

His hand stops instantly.

The room feels heavier.

“…Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Are you unhappy?”

“No!”

Juhoon shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you.

His expression isn’t angry.

It’s worried.

“I wouldn’t fight you,” he says after a moment. “If you were sure.”

You stare at him.

“But I’d wait.”

“Wait?”

He nods slightly.

“I don’t fall out of love quickly.”

Your throat tightens.

“I’d probably still text you to make sure you got home safe,” he adds softly.

You blink back sudden tears.

Juhoon notices.

He immediately pulls you closer.

“Hey. Hey. Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know.”

He brushes your hair back.

“If we broke up, I’d still care about you,” he whispers. “That doesn’t just disappear.”

You bury your face in his chest.

Juhoon holds you tightly.

“But I don’t want to break up,” he adds, almost shyly.

You laugh softly. “Good.”

“Good,” he echoes.

⸻

✧ 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭

You’re sitting together at a café.

Seonghyeon is scribbling in his notebook.

You sip your drink casually.

“What would you do if we broke up?”

His pen stops mid-word.

He looks up slowly.

“…Is this research?”

You laugh. “No.”

He studies you carefully.

Then he leans back.

“I’d write about it,” he says honestly.

“Of course you would.”

Seonghyeon smiles faintly.

“I’d romanticize it. Make it sound beautiful so it hurts less.”

Your chest aches.

“I’d pretend it was fate. Or timing. Or something poetic.”

You swallow. “And in reality?”

He closes his notebook.

“In reality, I’d miss you in quiet ways.”

Your breath catches.

“I’d reach for my phone to send you something funny,” he continues softly. “And remember.”

He looks at you gently.

“But I don’t think we’d break up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never met someone who understands me the way you do.”

You reach across the table, squeezing his hand.

He smiles.

“And if we did?” you ask quietly.

Seonghyeon tilts his head.

“I’d still thank the universe for letting me love you once.”

You nearly cry in the café.

He laughs softly. “Don’t cry. We’re not breaking up.”

⸻

✧ 𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐎 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲

Keonho is mid-game when you ask.

“What would you do if we broke up?”

He dies in the game immediately.

“WHAT.”

You burst out laughing.

He drops the controller.

“Why would you even say that?”

“It’s just a question!”

Keonho stands up dramatically.

“No. No, absolutely not.”

You giggle. “Answer it.”

He crosses his arms, offended.

“I would cry.”

You blink.

“Like… immediately,” he continues. “Ugly cry. Snot and everything.”

You laugh harder.

“I’d post sad stories. Delete them. Post them again. Change my profile picture to something dark.”

“You’re insane.”

“And then I’d show up at your house.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Not to beg,” he says quickly. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”

Your smile softens.

Keonho walks over and crouches in front of you.

“But I don’t want to break up,” he says seriously now.

“I know.”

He grabs your hands.

“So don’t manifest that.”

You laugh, squeezing his fingers.

“Okay.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He relaxes immediately and hugs you tightly.

“Good. Because I’m attached.”

You giggle into his shoulder.

“Very attached.”

⸻

╭─────── ୨୧ ───────╮

𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒

𝙟𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 • 𝙟𝙪𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣 • 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣 • 𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙮𝙚𝙤𝙣 • 𝙠𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙝𝙤

genre: fluff, romance, comfort, teen love

warnings: none (just insane boyfriend behavior)

╰──── ༺♡༻ ────╯

author’s note: happy valentine’s day my loves 🥹💌 this is pure fluff, pure romance, pure “i want what they have.” i hope this feels like a warm hug and a heart-shaped chocolate.

⸻

✦ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 — “𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞”

James had been acting suspicious for days.

Not in a scary way. Not in a “he’s hiding something bad” way.

But in a “why are you smiling at your phone like that?” way.

He’d step away to take calls, lowering his voice. He’d ask weird questions like, “Hypothetically… how do you feel about pink roses?” and then pretend he didn’t ask.

So by Valentine’s morning, you were already awake before he was, staring at the ceiling and wondering what kind of boyfriend nonsense he was about to pull.

James rolled over, hair messy, eyes barely open, and the first thing he did was pull you closer.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

You smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He didn’t let go. He just stayed there for a second, warm and sleepy, holding you like he didn’t want the day to start without a reminder that you were real.

Then he sat up suddenly like he remembered something important.

“Oh.”

You blinked. “Oh?”

James stood up and stretched. “Don’t move.”

“James—”

“Don’t. Move.”

He left the room.

You heard him walking around, drawers opening, quiet shuffling. Then he came back holding a small tray your favorite coffee, a tiny plate of strawberries, and a card.

You sat up slowly, heart melting.

“You made me breakfast?”

James shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but his ears were pink. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m your boyfriend. I have a reputation.”

You took the card first.

It was simple. White paper, neat handwriting, a small doodle of a heart in the corner.

“To the girl I’d choose in every lifetime.”

You stared at it.

Then you looked up at him.

James suddenly got shy, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, don’t read it out loud. I’ll die.”

You laughed softly. “You’re so dramatic.”

He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. “Only for you.”

The rest of the day felt like something out of a movie.

He took you out, but not somewhere overly fancy somewhere you’d love. A quiet café with warm lighting and heart-shaped pastries. He held your hand the entire time, thumb rubbing circles into your skin like he was absentmindedly reminding you that you belonged with him.

Later, he took you to a dance studio.

You stared at the door. “James… why are we here?”

He smiled. “Because you said you wanted to learn the choreography from that song.”

You blinked. “You remembered?”

James shrugged. “Of course I did.”

And in the studio, with music playing softly and the world outside feeling far away, James danced with you not to show off, not to perform but to make you laugh.

When you messed up, he didn’t correct you harshly. He just pulled you closer and guided you.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured.

“I’m literally not.”

“You are,” he insisted. “Because you’re trying.”

When the day ended, he walked you home, the sky soft and pink, and right before you went inside, he pulled something out of his pocket.

A tiny ring.

Not an engagement ring.

Just a simple silver one with a tiny heart.

“For your finger,” he said quietly. “So you can have something that reminds you of me.”

You stared at it.

Then at him.

James swallowed. “I know it’s cheesy—”

You launched yourself into his arms.

James laughed, catching you easily, spinning you around once.

“Okay,” he whispered into your hair. “Worth it.”

⸻

✦ 𝐉𝐔𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — “𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲”

Juhoon didn’t do big flashy surprises.

He did quiet ones.

The kind that hit you later when you were alone, and you realized just how deeply he cared.

Valentine’s morning, you woke up to a text.

Juhoon: “Check outside your door when you wake up.”

You opened it to find a small bag.

Inside was your favorite drink, a warm pastry, and a small plush keychain something you’d pointed out weeks ago in a store and then forgotten about.

You stood there, heart pounding.

When you turned around, Juhoon was leaning against the hallway wall, hands in his pockets, looking shy.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said softly.

You walked up to him slowly. “You remembered the keychain.”

Juhoon nodded. “You looked at it for like… three seconds. But you smiled.”

Your eyes stung.

Juhoon immediately panicked. “Wait—are you crying? Did I do something wrong?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, you idiot.”

Juhoon relaxed, exhaling.

Then he pulled you into a hug.

Not a casual one.

A full, tight hug where you could feel his heartbeat against yours.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I’m not good at loud love. But I’m good at this.”

You melted into him.

The day was calm. Cozy.

He cooked with you, even though he wasn’t the best cook. He followed recipes like they were sacred texts, brow furrowed in concentration.

At one point, flour got on his cheek.

You reached up to wipe it away.

Juhoon froze, eyes soft.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head, smiling faintly. “Nothing. Just… you’re really pretty.”

Later, you watched movies in bed. He kept pulling the blanket higher around you, making sure you were warm.

At the end of the night, he handed you another card.

This one was longer.

It wasn’t poetic like James’s.

It was honest.

Juhoon’s words were simple but heavy.

“Thank you for being gentle with me. Thank you for loving me in a way that makes me feel safe.”

You cried again.

Juhoon groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “Stop crying. I can’t handle it.”

You laughed through tears. “Then stop being so sweet.”

Juhoon kissed your cheek. “No.”

⸻

✦ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍 — “𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞… 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭”

Martin tried to act like Valentine’s Day was no big deal.

He rolled his eyes when he saw couples posting flowers.

“Overpriced,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re just bitter.”

Martin scoffed. “I’m not bitter. I’m logical.”

But then…

He showed up at your place with a bouquet anyway.

Not a normal bouquet.

A bouquet made of snacks.

Your favorite chips. Chocolate. Candy. Little drinks. A tiny stuffed bear.

You stared.

Martin cleared his throat. “It’s not flowers. It’s better.”

You laughed. “This is literally adorable.”

Martin shrugged like he didn’t care. “Yeah, well. I know what you actually like.”

He took you on a date that felt like you two.

Not fancy.

Just fun.

Arcade games. Photo booth pictures. Holding hands while walking through the city.

He kept teasing you the whole time.

“You’re bad at this game,” he said when you missed a shot.

You glared. “I’m not.”

Martin leaned in close, voice low. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Your cheeks warmed.

“Stop flirting,” you whispered.

Martin smirked. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m allowed.”

At the photo booth, you tried to do cute poses.

Martin kept ruining them on purpose.

The first photo? He stuck his tongue out.

The second? He leaned in like he was going to bite your cheek.

The third? He kissed you.

The fourth photo came out blurry because you both started laughing too hard.

When you got home, you thought the night was done.

But Martin had one more thing.

He turned on the TV.

A video.

A compilation.

Of you.

Little clips he’d secretly taken throughout the year.

You laughing. You dancing in the kitchen. You asleep on his shoulder. You making him smile.

Your heart stopped.

Martin sat beside you, suddenly quiet.

“I made it,” he admitted.

You turned to him. “Martin…”

He shrugged, looking away. “I just… like you. A lot.”

You leaned in, kissing him softly.

Martin kissed back immediately, hand on your waist like he’d been waiting all day.

When you pulled away, he whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And for the first time all day, he didn’t act like he didn’t care.

⸻

✦ 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 — “𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞”

Seonghyeon was the type to romanticize everything.

A sunset.

A cup of tea.

The way you tied your hair up.

So Valentine’s Day with him felt like stepping into a soft dream.

He picked you up with a small bouquet of flowers real ones and a book.

You stared at the book.

“You got me a book?”

Seonghyeon nodded. “You said you wanted to read it.”

You blinked. “When?”

Seonghyeon smiled. “Last month. You mentioned it for half a second.”

Your heart squeezed.

The date was simple.

A quiet bookstore. A café. Walking around while holding hands.

But Seonghyeon made it feel like the world was only you and him.

At the café, he wrote something on a napkin while you weren’t looking.

When you noticed, you leaned closer.

“What are you writing?”

Seonghyeon slid the napkin toward you.

It was a short poem.

Not something overly dramatic.

Something small.

Something about the way you smile.

You stared at it, stunned.

“You wrote this right now?”

Seonghyeon nodded shyly. “Yeah.”

You covered your mouth. “You’re insane.”

Seonghyeon laughed softly. “Only for you.”

Later that night, he took you to a rooftop.

Fairy lights. A small blanket. Warm drinks.

You looked around, breath catching.

“Did you set this up?”

Seonghyeon nodded.

You turned to him, eyes wide.

He looked nervous. “Is it too much?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. It’s perfect.”

Seonghyeon relaxed, smiling.

And when you sat together under the lights, his arm around you, he whispered, “Thank you for being my favorite person.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Always,” you whispered back.

⸻

✦ 𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐎 — “𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜”

Keonho was excited for Valentine’s Day like a kid.

He woke up early, texted you first, and spammed you with messages.

Keonho: “HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYYY”

Keonho: “I HAVE A SURPRISE”

Keonho: “WAIT TWO SURPRISES”

Keonho: “OKAY MAYBE THREE”

When you met him, he was bouncing on his feet.

He handed you a small bag.

Inside: chocolates, a handmade card, and a tiny bracelet.

You smiled. “This is so cute.”

Keonho grinned. “WAIT. There’s more.”

He pulled out another bag.

Inside: matching phone charms.

You laughed. “Keonho…”

He looked proud. “So now everyone knows you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Possessive much?”

Keonho nodded. “Yes.”

The date was pure fun.

He took you to a place where you could paint pottery.

He got paint on his hands immediately.

Then on his face.

Then somehow on your nose.

You stared at him.

Keonho blinked innocently. “What?”

“You’re a mess.”

He smiled. “Your mess.”

You tried to stay mad.

You failed.

At the end, you both made small mugs yours had a heart, his had your initials.

When you went home, he insisted on taking photos of you.

“You look so pretty,” he said, adjusting the angle.

You laughed. “Stop.”

“I’m serious,” Keonho said softly. “You’re my Valentine. The prettiest one.”

You stared at him.

He got shy suddenly. “Okay, don’t look at me like that.”

You leaned forward and kissed him.

Keonho kissed back instantly, arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t help it.

When you pulled away, he whispered, “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

⸻

༺♡༻

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 💌

𝐓𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃 ✦ “𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐏𝐒”

𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

༺♡༻

summary: y/n tries the trend on martin… and martin decides to be the most annoying man alive on purpose.

warnings: none, just martin being tall and shameless

author’s note: i’m convinced martin was put on this earth to be a professional instigator. enjoy.

⸻

It started the way most of Y/N’s worst ideas started.

With her laying in bed, doom-scrolling TikTok, giggling into her pillow while Martin was across the room being suspiciously quiet.

Not quiet in a peaceful way.

Quiet in a “he’s doing something that will annoy me later” way.

Y/N’s thumb paused when she saw it.

A video of a girl filming her boyfriend eating chips, and she just kept repeating, “I wish I had a free bag of chippps…” in this soft, dramatic voice—like she was in a tragic movie and the only thing she’d ever wanted in life was a crunchy snack.

The boyfriend was confused. Then he was annoyed. Then he gave in.

The comments were full of people saying:

“THIS WOULD WORK ON ME IMMEDIATELY”

“WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY”

“I WOULD START CRYING IF HE DIDN’T SHARE”

Y/N sat up slowly.

Her eyes slid over to Martin.

And right on cue, like the universe was lining it up perfectly, she saw him.

Sitting on the couch, hoodie on, hair slightly messy, legs stretched out like he paid rent there (he did), holding a bag of chips like it was his emotional support item.

He was eating them like he’d never been wronged in his life.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Y/N stared at him like a predator.

Martin didn’t notice. Not yet.

Y/N quietly slipped off the bed and walked over like she was on a mission.

Then she pulled her phone up.

Camera on.

She started recording.

⸻

Martin was mid-crunch when Y/N’s voice entered the room in the most tragic tone possible.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin froze.

Slowly, he turned his head.

He stared at her like she’d just spoken in ancient Latin.

“…What?” he asked.

Y/N didn’t answer.

She just stared at the chips.

Then at Martin.

Then at the chips.

Then she said again, slightly louder:

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin blinked.

“…Babe,” he said carefully. “Are you okay?”

Y/N nodded like she was completely fine.

Then she repeated it.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin looked down at the bag in his hand like it was betraying him.

Then he looked back up at her, eyes narrowing.

“…Is this a TikTok thing?”

Y/N’s lips pressed together. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

She only stared harder.

And said, with even more emotion:

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin leaned back against the couch.

He took another chip.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And crunched it.

Y/N’s eye twitched.

Martin’s mouth curved like he was enjoying this way too much.

“Oh,” he said, chewing. “So this is what we’re doing.”

Y/N didn’t stop recording.

She just shifted the camera slightly so it got Martin’s face and the chips in frame.

Then she said it again.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin stared at her.

Then he stared at the camera.

Then he stared at her again.

And the most annoying thing happened.

He smiled.

Not a normal smile.

A Martin smile.

The kind of smile that said: I’m about to make this worse for you on purpose.

⸻

“Okay,” Martin said, acting like he was thinking. “So… you want chips.”

Y/N nodded.

Martin nodded back like he understood.

Then he reached into the bag.

Y/N’s eyes lit up.

And then Martin took out a chip…

And ate it himself.

Y/N gasped.

“MARTIN.”

He chewed slowly, watching her with full eye contact like he was trying to win a psychological war.

“What?” he asked innocently. “I thought you said you wish you had chips.”

Y/N’s voice went up.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps!”

Martin’s eyebrows lifted.

“A free bag?” he repeated. “That’s crazy. In this economy?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped.

She stepped closer to him, still filming, her phone steady like she was documenting a crime scene.

Martin leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

“So… if I give you chips,” he said, “that means I’m a generous boyfriend.”

Y/N nodded quickly.

Martin nodded too.

Then he held the bag out toward her.

Y/N’s face brightened.

She reached for it—

And Martin pulled it back.

Y/N stared at him like she was going to explode.

Martin laughed under his breath.

“Say please.”

Y/N’s eyes widened.

“This trend doesn’t have a please!”

Martin shrugged.

“Mine does.”

Y/N stood there, absolutely fuming, and said with all the dramatic despair she could possibly summon:

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin stared at her.

Then he slowly stood up.

All six-foot-three of him.

He towered over her in a way that was honestly unfair.

Then he leaned down to her height like he was about to kiss her.

Y/N’s heart did a little stupid flip.

But instead, Martin whispered:

“…You’re so cute when you’re annoying.”

Y/N hissed, “I’m not annoying!”

Martin chuckled.

Then he popped another chip into his mouth.

⸻

At this point, Y/N was fully committed.

Her pride was on the line.

Her dignity was already gone.

And her stomach wanted chips.

So she did what any sane girlfriend would do.

She started following him.

Like a little gremlin.

Martin walked to the kitchen with the chips.

Y/N followed.

Martin leaned against the counter, casually eating.

Y/N leaned across from him, filming, staring, and repeating like a haunting spirit.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin looked at her like he was watching a documentary.

“…You’re really not going to stop, are you?”

Y/N shook her head.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin sighed dramatically, like he was the one suffering.

Then he reached into the bag and held out a chip toward her.

Y/N’s eyes widened.

Finally.

She leaned forward to take it—

But Martin lifted it higher.

Y/N froze.

Martin raised it again.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed.

He raised it again.

Y/N stared at him, horrified.

“…Are you making me jump for it?” she asked.

Martin smiled sweetly.

“A little.”

Y/N’s mouth opened.

“Martin, I’m literally your girlfriend.”

Martin nodded.

“Yes. My adorable girlfriend who wants a free bag of chippps.”

Y/N lunged for the chip.

Martin moved his hand back.

Y/N almost fell forward.

Martin laughed so hard he had to turn away.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed. “You’re so—”

“I WISH I HAD A FREE BAG OF CHIPPPPSSS!” Y/N yelled.

Martin turned back, eyes bright.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Open your mouth.”

Y/N blinked.

She stopped for a second.

“…Wait, what?”

Martin held up the chip.

“Open.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed.

This was suddenly way more intimate than she expected.

She hesitated, then opened her mouth.

Martin gently placed the chip between her lips.

Y/N bit down.

Crunch.

She froze.

Because for some reason… it was cute.

Like stupidly cute.

Martin’s face softened for half a second.

Then he ruined it.

He said, “Good girl.”

Y/N CHOKED.

“MARTIN!”

Martin laughed so loud it echoed in the kitchen.

⸻

Y/N was chewing, trying to recover her dignity, when she realized something.

Martin thought he won.

He thought he’d satisfied the trend.

He thought she was done.

He was wrong.

Y/N lifted her phone again.

She turned the camera back on him.

And in the softest, most dramatic voice ever, she said:

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin paused.

He looked down at the bag.

Then he looked up at her.

“…Babe,” he said slowly, “I literally just fed you.”

Y/N nodded.

“I know.”

Then she said it again.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin stared.

Then he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re greedy,” he accused.

Y/N shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Then she repeated it again.

Martin’s eyes narrowed like he was entering his villain era.

“Oh, okay,” he said. “You want to play?”

Y/N smiled innocently.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin walked closer.

Y/N backed up instinctively.

Martin backed her up against the fridge.

Not aggressively—just playfully.

Like he was cornering her in the most boyfriend way possible.

He held the chip bag above her head.

Y/N stared at it.

Then she looked at him.

Then she whispered:

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin’s jaw clenched like he was fighting laughter.

Then he tilted the bag slightly.

A single chip slid out.

And fell directly onto Y/N’s head.

It bounced off her hair.

And landed on the floor.

Y/N stared.

Then she stared at Martin.

Martin’s eyes were wide like he’d just realized what he did.

Then he started laughing.

“Oops,” he said, voice shaking. “My bad.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open.

“You just—”

“I didn’t mean to,” Martin lied.

“You literally dropped it on my head!”

Martin laughed harder.

Y/N, still filming, pointed at him.

“This is abuse.”

Martin leaned forward, grinning.

“You’re recording evidence, huh?”

Y/N nodded.

“Yes.”

Martin nodded back.

Then he dumped another chip onto her head.

⸻

Y/N squealed and tried to dodge.

Martin laughed and stepped forward again, holding the bag like a weapon.

Y/N backed up, half laughing, half screaming.

“Martin! Stop!”

“You wanted chips!” he said.

“I wanted you to SHARE!”

“I AM sharing!” he insisted, as another chip fell onto her shoulder.

Y/N tried to grab the bag.

Martin lifted it higher.

Y/N jumped.

Martin moved.

Y/N missed.

Martin laughed.

Then he suddenly stopped.

He stepped forward and grabbed Y/N gently by the waist.

Y/N froze.

Her laughter got stuck in her throat.

Martin leaned down, his face close, eyes soft.

He said quietly:

“…You’re so cute.”

Y/N blinked.

Her heart did that stupid flip again.

Then Martin popped a chip into his mouth.

And said, “But you’re also a menace.”

Y/N hit his arm.

Martin laughed, then finally—finally—held out the bag.

“Take it,” he said. “Before I change my mind.”

Y/N gasped and snatched it like it was a prize.

She hugged it to her chest.

Then she looked at him with the biggest smile.

Martin smiled back, satisfied.

Y/N lifted the phone again.

And said sweetly:

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin’s smile dropped.

“…No.”

Y/N nodded.

“Yes.”

Martin stepped closer.

Y/N squealed.

Martin grabbed the bag.

Y/N held on.

They tugged back and forth like children.

Martin, being taller and stronger, obviously won in two seconds.

He pulled the bag away and then—

He held it out in front of her face.

Like he was offering it.

Y/N leaned in.

And Martin poured a tiny pile of chips directly into her hands.

Y/N froze.

Then she laughed.

Martin looked proud.

“There,” he said. “Now you have a free bag of chips.”

Y/N stared at the chips in her hands.

Then she stared at him.

Then she said softly:

“…I love you.”

Martin’s expression softened instantly.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I know,” he said. “You should.”

Y/N giggled.

Then she whispered into the camera, still recording:

“Guys he’s literally insane.”

Martin heard.

He leaned into frame.

And with a straight face, he said:

“Tell them you started it.”

Y/N laughed.

And the video ended with Martin throwing one last chip at her like a final insult.

⸻

Later that night, Y/N posted the TikTok.

Caption:

“he thought he could out-annoy me 😭”

Within an hour, the comments were already going feral.

Top comments:

• “THE CHIP ON THE HEAD IM CRYING”

• “HE SAID GOOD GIRL?????”

• “THE WAY HE TOWERS OVER HER IS CRAZY”

• “THIS IS EXACTLY HOW BOYFRIENDS ACT”

• “HE’S SO HOT BUT SO ANNOYING”

Martin read them over her shoulder.

Then he looked at Y/N and said casually:

“Next trend, I’m pranking you first.”

Y/N smiled sweetly.

“Okay.”

Martin narrowed his eyes.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

Y/N shrugged.

“No reason.”

Martin stared at her for a second.

Then he reached for the chips again.

And held them protectively to his chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I don’t trust you.”

Y/N leaned in, voice soft and dramatic.

“I wish I had a free bag of chippps…”

Martin sighed like a man who’d already lost.

Then he opened the bag.

And fed her anyway.

Because at the end of the day…

He was still her boyfriend.

And she was still the cutest menace he’d ever met.

༺♡༻

END

James x Reader

───────────────

You didn’t plan for the video to take this long.

Originally, it was supposed to be a quick GRWM—ten minutes, maybe fifteen—but James was already sprawled across your bed, chin in his hands, watching you set up your tripod like it was the most interesting thing in the world. His relaxed demeanor somehow intensified the playful atmosphere that surrounded the shoot.

“You’re really filming today?” he asked, eyes following you as you adjusted the ring light to capture your best angle.

You nodded, slightly distracted by the reflection in the light. “Yeah. Just a casual GRWM.”

He hummed thoughtfully, an idea clearly forming in his mind. “Let me narrate.”

You froze, caught off guard by his sudden enthusiasm. Slowly, you turned to face him. “You want to do the voiceover,” you questioned, half-expecting him to change his mind.

“Need to,” he corrected, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “For science.”

You laughed, the playful banter giving the moment a lighthearted feel, but before you could firmly decline, he was already scooting closer, stealing your phone and testing the microphone with a dramatic flair. “Hello. Testing. I sound good. This is my calling.” His confidence was infectious, and as he continued to experiment with exaggerated voice inflections, you found yourself reconsidering the structure of your video. Maybe a little humor and spontaneity would enhance the overall experience, turning the simple GRWM into something genuinely fun and unique. After all, who wouldn’t want to see a beauty routine paired with whimsical commentary?

James held your makeup bag open like a personal assistant while you sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror, an arrangement that felt both familiar and oddly intimate. Every time you reached in, he peeked inside with a curious glimmer in his eye, his youthful enthusiasm evident in the way he leaned closer, as if he were examining a treasure chest rather than a makeup bag.

“Why do you have so many tiny bottles that all look the same?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine intrigue.

“They do different things,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even as you felt a slight twinge of defensiveness.

“They're all beige,” he countered playfully, arching an eyebrow in mock suspicion.

“They are not,” you insisted, eyes narrowing slightly, although you could hear the laughter laced in your voice.

He shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Beige with secrets.”

You clipped your hair back, smoothing on lip balm before taking a moment to glance at him through the mirror. He was already smiling at you soft, fond, the kind of smile that made your chest warm and your heart skip a beat. It was the kind of look that made you feel both seen and cherished.

“Okay,” you said, mentally bracing yourself, pressing record on your camera. “Don’t embarrass me.”

James grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with a promise of humor and fun. “I will try,” he said, but you both knew that part of the appeal of this moment was the light teasing and playful risks that came with it. As you readied yourself for the filming, a bubble of excitement formed, merging the anticipation of sharing yourself with your audience and the comfort of sharing this moment with someone you deeply trusted.

───────────────

The video started with your bare face, the camera angled just right. James cleared his throat and immediately slipped into narrator mode.

“And here we see,” he began seriously, “the artist before the masterpiece.”

You reached for your cleanser.

“She’s cleansing,” he continued, nodding like a documentary host. “Removing the sins of yesterday.”

This remark brought a playful chuckle from you, invalidating the comparison but also illustrating the light-hearted ambience James crafted around the routine. It was as if he had transformed the mundane act of skincare into a narrative, worthy of audience engagement.

You rinsed and patted your face dry.

“And now,” James said, leaning forward slightly, “hydration. Because she forgets to drink water.”

“James.”

“I’m just telling the truth.”

His teasing always managed to add an element of comfort to the proceedings, transforming what could have been a simple tutorial into an entertaining commentary session. You appreciated how he effortlessly wove humor into the experience, reminding viewers of the importance of humor amidst self-care.

You applied toner with a cotton pad.

“This one,” he explained, “is spicy water for the face.”

“It’s not spicy.”

“Yet.”

As you smoothed the toner across your skin, you felt the invigorating sensation of the product taking effect. Toner was more than just a step; it was a refreshing bridge between cleansing and nourishing like a gentle pause allowing your skin to gather itself for the next steps.

You followed with serum, tapping it gently into your skin.

“She pats,” James observed softly, voice lowering, “like she’s reassuring her skin that everything will be okay.”

You smiled without meaning to.

Next came moisturizer.

“And this,” James said, “is the face cream. It smells expensive, so I’m afraid to touch it.”

You massaged it in, then reached for primer.

“She’s preparing the canvas,” he continued. “Very important. Without this, the art slides off. I think.”

You applied it, smoothing it across your cheeks and forehead, feeling the velvety texture settle into your skin. The primer seemed to create an invisible barrier, almost like a protective layer that ensured everything would sit perfectly.

“Her focus face is insane,” James added. “She looks like she’s defusing a bomb.”

You glanced at him. “Stop distracting me.”

“I can’t. I’m in awe.”

Foundation was next.

You dotted it across your face, and James gasped softly. “Polka dots. A bold choice.”

You blended with a sponge.

“And now she attacks her face,” he said, “with the squishy triangle of destiny.”

You bounced the sponge carefully, trying not to laugh.

“The technique,” James continued, “is aggressive kindness.”

Concealer followed.

“She’s hiding the under-eyes,” he said knowingly. “From when she stays up too late talking to me.”

You paused, looking at him through the mirror.

He smiled. “Worth it.”

You set your base with powder.

“And now,” James narrated, “the face snow. For stability.”

You moved on to bronzer.

“This one,” he said, “adds warmth. Because she is already warm, but apparently not enough.”

You brushed it along your cheekbones and jaw, feeling the light enhancement of your features.

Contour came next.

“Face shadows,” James said confidently. “For drama.”

You blended carefully, ensuring the lines were soft and natural.

“And just like that,” he added, impressed, “the drama disappears.”

Blush followed.

“This is my favorite part,” he admitted. “She looks like she’s embarrassed just existing.”

You smiled, tapping it onto your cheeks. The gentle flush brought a fresh vitality to your complexion, transforming your appearance effortlessly.

Eyes were where things got serious.

“She chooses the colors,” James said softly as you opened your palette. “Like she’s choosing a mood.”

You swept neutral shades across your lids, reveling in the way the hues transformed your appearance, subtly accentuating your features.

“She blends forever,” he continued. “Patient. Gentle. Like she has all the time in the world.”

Eyeliner made him nervous, a palpable tension hanging in the air as you concentrated.

“She is now doing something dangerous,” James warned. “Please do not move.”

You held your breath, the anticipation building as you drew the line with precision, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.

When you finished, he exhaled loudly. “She survived.”

Mascara was worse. The small, bristle brush loomed large in his mind.

“Why does that brush look angry,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, laced with concern.

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t believe you,” he replied, an underlying respect in his tone for the ritual you performed.

You applied it carefully, blinking slowly, deciding to revel in the elegance it bestowed.

“She trusts a weapon near her eyes,” James said in awe. “A brave woman.”

Brows, highlighter, lips.

“She’s shaping the brows,” James narrated, “so they match her emotions, each stroke intentional, a reflection of her inner self.”

Highlighter made him grin, the shimmer catching his eye.

“And now,” he said, softer, “she glows.”

Lip liner and gloss finished the look, a final artistic endeavor that completed your transformation.

“The final touch,” James concluded, a sense of pride filling his voice. “Completed.”

You turned toward him, makeup done, eyes bright, skin glowing.

James stared for a second too long, clearly caught off guard by the result of your enchanting metamorphosis.

“Oh,” he said quietly, realization dawning on him. “Yeah. That worked.”

You laughed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, appreciating the way his admiration made you feel. “Good narration?”

He nodded proudly, his smile wide. “I nailed it.”

Later, when you watched the video back together, curled up on the bed, his arm around your shoulders, you laughed even harder—at his commentary, at his confidence, at the way his voice softened whenever he talked about you.

The comments rolled in fast.

“He’s obsessed.”

“This is boyfriend behavior.”

“The way he narrates her like a work of art.”

James read them over your shoulder, smiling.

“They’re right,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You are art.”

𓂃𓈒𓏸 𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 your 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 24 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨

───────────────

It started as a joke. A harmless trend. Twenty-four hours of ignoring your boyfriend.

No replies. No reactions. No “I miss you” texts back.

You told yourself it would be easy.

You were wrong.

───────────────

✦ James

James noticed first. He always did.

An hour after sending his usual “did you eat yet?” text, he frowned at his phone, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Normally, he’d already have a reply something sarcastic, something cute, perhaps even something accompanied by a random photo of your latest culinary masterpiece or a candid snapshot of your cat in a ridiculous pose. But this time? Nothing. The silence stretched on, pulling at his nerves like a taut string ready to snap.

Another message followed. Then another, each one punctuated by his growing anxiety.

By hour three, James had called twice, his heart racing at the thought of what could possibly be wrong. Maybe you had simply lost track of time, or maybe you were busy with some project that had consumed your attention. But the nagging feeling in his gut told him that things were not quite right.

He finally showed up at your place under the flimsy excuse of “dropping something off,” holding a coffee he knew you liked, hoping to coax you out of whatever funk you were in. He knocked gently at first, then harder as his concern deepened, a palpable weight settling on his shoulders.

“Babe?” he called through the door, anxiety creeping into his voice. “I know you’re home. Your shoes are here.” His mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last.

You stayed silent, crouched behind the couch, phone recording, capturing the moment as if it were a scene from a movie.

When you finally opened the door just enough to peek out, James’s face immediately softened with relief. “Oh thank God,” he breathed, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you before you could dodge. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. “I thought I did something wrong. I was replaying every conversation from the last week.”

You laughed softly, giving up your pretense instantly, the love you shared washing over you like a reassuring tide.

“24 hours my ass,” James murmured into your hair, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I failed at hour three.” He pulled back to look into your eyes, his expression a blend of relief and concern. “But seriously, what’s going on? You had me worried sick.”

You sighed, the weight of your day dissipating in the warmth of his arms. “I just needed a moment, you know?” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it gets a bit overwhelming.”

James nodded, his brow furrowing, understanding washing over his features. “You should have told me. I’m here for you, always. We can face it together.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt grateful for his unwavering support. It was moments like these that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him by your side, ready to dive into the depths of your emotions with you.

───────────────

✦ Juhoon

Juhoon tried to be calm about it.

He really did.

At first, he assumed you were simply busy with life’s many demands. After all, everyone has moments when they get caught up in their own worlds, right? He sent one message, casual and light, hoping to hear back soon. Then he waited, his mind racing with a million thoughts, wondering if he had said something wrong or if something troubling had come up. When a few hours passed with no response, he sent another message, this time adding a little “no rush” at the end, trying to convey that he wasn’t desperate, just genuinely concerned. But after four long hours of silence, his thoughts spiraled out of control.

By hour six, he couldn’t take it anymore. He sent a voice message soft, careful, filled with a tenderness that reflected his concern. He spoke as if he were approaching something fragile, like he didn’t want to scare you away. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re busy or upset, but I just wanted to say I hope you’re okay.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears.

That was when guilt kicked in, gnawing at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. Did he say something wrong? Had he done something to upset you? His mind raced with every possible scenario, fueling his worry.

Juhoon showed up later that evening, standing outside your door with a bag of snacks, which he hoped would lighten the mood, and the most worried expression you’d ever seen. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for you to answer. When you opened the door, he didn’t even speak just pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that conveyed all the words he couldn’t find.

“I’m sorry if I did anything,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll fix it.”

You immediately confessed, laughing through your apology, your warmth easing the tension that had built up inside him. He sighed, his forehead resting against yours, the relief flooding through him. “Please never do that again. I do not survive well without reassurance.”

───────────────

✦ Martin

Martin clocked it within minutes.

Not because he panicked but because it was unusual.

He sent one text. Nothing. He waited, his mind racing as he replayed the last conversation you had in his head. Sent another. Still nothing. By hour two, he sent a picture of something random, just to see if you’d react. A silly meme he thought might lighten the mood.

You didn’t.

That’s when he called.

You didn’t answer.

Martin didn’t rush over, despite the gnawing anxiety that was building in him. Instead, he waited… and waited… and waited… until the silence drove him insane. The ticking of the clock on the wall grew louder in his ears, each second amplifying his concern. He eventually showed up with an annoyed-but-worried expression plastered on his face, knocking once before letting himself in without waiting for an invitation.

“You’re ignoring me on purpose,” he said flatly, his voice tinged with a mixture of irritation and concern.

You tried to stay serious, but the way he crossed his arms and stared at you made you laugh instantly, the tension dissipating like steam from a kettle.

“Why would you ever think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked, pulling you into his chest, the warmth of his body grounding you. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Two hours,” you admitted, unable to hide the smirk creeping onto your face.

Martin smirked back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Record time.”

You could see that the worry was still there in the crease of his brow, but the playful banter was a welcome relief. “You know I just needed a moment to think, right?” you said, trying to explain your silence.

He sighed, holding you a little tighter. “I get that, but you could have at least sent me a ‘hey, I’m okay’ text. I was about to lose my mind.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for not reaching out sooner. “Okay, next time I promise I’ll text,” you said, looking up at him with sincerity in your eyes.

Martin softened. “Good. Because I can’t handle the suspense.”

And just like that, the heaviness in the room lifted, replaced with the warmth of understanding and affection as you both settled into the familiar comfort of each other's presence.

───────────────

✦ Seonghyeon

Seonghyeon suffered quietly, trapped in a whirlwind of self-doubt and anxiety that seemed to wrap around him like a heavy cloak. Each tick of the clock felt like a reminder of his growing insecurities.

He didn’t spam his messages with a flurry of texts, nor did he pick up the phone to call you, fearing that any contact might only amplify the tension that hung between you two. Instead, he found himself fixated on the device in his hand, refreshing his messages with a growing sense of desperation. Every few minutes, he would glance at the screen, convinced that perhaps he had simply missed something important that would alleviate his fears. Time stretched on, and by the fifth hour, he sat on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly, staring at the blank screen as if it had personally betrayed him.

Finally, the weight of his thoughts became too much to bear, and he typed out a message: “I’m probably overthinking, but… are you mad at me?” His heart raced as he hit send, but the silence that followed felt deafening. Each passing minute without a response pierced through him, and that lack of communication became a heavy stone lodged in his chest. It shattered his composure and left him feeling utterly defeated.

Later that night, he showed up at your door, knocking softly. His eyes were tired, filled with a mixture of anxiety and a flicker of hope. When you opened the door, he let out a shaky laugh, a sound that barely masked his relief. “Okay. You’re alive,” he said, his voice laced with a nervous edge.

Without hesitation, you cracked, the tension melting away as you wrapped your arms around him. All the unspoken worries spilled out in a rush, and you admitted everything the misunderstandings, the fears, and the weight of the silence that had come to define that day.

Seonghyeon hugged you back tightly, his embrace a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t need 24 hours,” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need like… 10 minutes of reassurance.” In that moment, surrounded by each other, you both found a fragile kind of peace amidst the chaos, a reminder that communication could bridge even the widest chasms of misunderstanding.

───────────────

✦ Keonho

Keonho was doomed from the start.

He lasted exactly forty minutes before his anxiety kicked in.

After sending three messages and receiving nothing back, his mind began to spiral into worst-case scenarios. With every passing second, he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. He started pacing around his cramped apartment, glancing at his phone every few moments, hoping for a sign that you were still there, still thinking of him. By hour two, he could no longer sit idly by. He picked up his phone again, dialing your number with shaky fingers, his heart racing as he listened to the ringing on the other end, only to be met with silence.

By hour three, the concern morphed into panic. He found himself standing outside your building, ringing the doorbell as if his life depended on it, pressing the button repeatedly as though the building itself could somehow answer his desperate call. It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few minutes. He was convinced that something terrible had happened, and each moment felt like a lifetime.

When you finally opened the door, he nearly tackled you into a hug, relief flooding through him like a wave.

“WHY would you do that,” he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder as if he could hide from the world. “I thought my phone broke. Or you broke up with me. Or both. I thought I was going to lose you!”

You laughed so hard you could barely explain the prank, the sheer joy of seeing him again making the moment all the more precious.

Keonho pulled back, still pouting, his eyes wide with mock indignation. “I would never survive a breakup trend. Please don’t test me again. My heart can’t take this kind of torture! Next time, just let me know you’re okay!”

His playful tone was laced with genuine concern, a reminder of how deeply he cared for you and how much your well-being meant to him.

───────────────

─────────────── ⭒๋࣭⭑  𝘀𝘂𝘀𝘱𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸 ⭒๋࣭⭑ (girlfriend gives unhinged relationship advice on camera… while boyfriend overhears) ──────────────────────

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝙅𝘼𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙑𝙀𝙍. — “you should always keep a backup boyfriend.”

You angle your camera just so, ensuring that James is barely in frame, sprawled comfortably on the couch while casually scrolling through his phone. He looks completely relaxed, and you can’t help but smile at how at ease he is. 

With a soft, sweet tone, you begin your video:

You (into camera, whisper-soft): “hey guys… so today’s relationship advice is simple: you should definitely keep… like… a backup boyfriend. just in case.” Almost instantly, James’s head snaps up so fast that his hair fluffs up comically. 

James: “…a what.” You feign innocence, pretending not to hear him.

You: “honestly, it’s really useful. like, if your boyfriend is busy? or annoying? or like, breathing too loud? your backup can fill in.” You watch as James sits up fully, his phone lowering to his lap, eyes narrowing in disbelief. 

James: “backup? fill in? babe, WHAT do you mean fill in???” 

Your demeanor remains calm, almost teasing.: “i just think having options is healthy. like having a plan A… and a plan B… and maybe a plan C—” 

James (getting off the couch, incredulous): “NO. who is B? who is C? why is there an alphabet? who are these MEN?” He stands behind you now, glaring into the camera as if he wants to confront these imaginary backup boyfriends directly.

 You (shrugging nonchalantly): “i mean… experience taught me—” 

James: “EXPERIENCE?? YOU HAD BACKUPS BEFORE???”

 At this point, you can’t contain your laughter, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “baby it’s a prank—” 

James: “okay good because i was about to start auditioning for the role of your ONLY OPTION.” He hugs you tightly from behind, but despite the affectionate gesture, he can’t help but keep side-eyeing the camera, as if it has personally offended him.

You take a moment to enjoy the playful tension, feeling a rush of affection for him. “You know,” you say, still chuckling, “having a backup isn’t about replacing you. It’s just a safety net. Like insurance!” James rolls his eyes dramatically, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward, betraying his amusement. “Insurance? Really? What’s next? Are you going to suggest I take out a policy on my heart?”

You giggle again, knowing you’ve struck a nerve, but also realizing that this playful banter is part of what makes your relationship so special. “No, silly. Just a little precaution. You never know when a cute guy might need to step in if you’re busy binge-watching a show instead of taking me out!”

James’s expression softens, and he shakes his head, his playful annoyance fading. “Just remember, I’m always going to be your number one. No backup needed. Just me, okay?” You nod, your heart swelling with love for him. “Absolutely, babe. You’re irreplaceable.” The camera captures the warmth of the moment as you both share a laugh, the playful banter turning into a sweet reminder of your bond.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝙅𝙐𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉 𝙑𝙀𝙍. — “if your boyfriend makes you mad, just disappear for 48 hours.”

Juhoon is sitting at the dining table, his laptop open in front of him, deeply engrossed in editing music. His brow is furrowed in concentration, yet there’s a calmness about him that seems almost palpable. The gentle tapping of keys fills the air, a rhythmic symphony that perfectly encapsulates his dedication to his craft.

This serene atmosphere is precisely why the prank you’ve concocted works far too well.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

You (softly to camera): “Hey guys… here’s some relationship advice. If your boyfriend makes you mad? Don’t argue. Don’t talk. Just… disappear for two days. Like, vanish.”

At the sound of your voice, Juhoon’s fingers freeze mid-air, caught in a moment of disbelief. He slowly turns his head to look over at you, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

Juhoon: “…vanish??? What do you mean vanish?”

You can’t help but continue the ruse, your excitement bubbling up as you play off the situation.

You: “Yeah, like no texts, no calls. Let him feel the fear. It’s character development for both of you.”

At this, Juhoon shuts his laptop with a definitive clack, his previous calmness replaced with a hint of concern.

Juhoon: “Who taught you this? Who are you disappearing from? How many times have you vanished???”

You respond with a mischievous grin, your mind racing with the hilarity of the moment.

You: “I mean… experience—”

Juhoon, his mild panic escalating, interjects: “WHICH EXPERIENCE???”

He stands up, moving toward you with the urgency of a distressed father who’s trying his hardest not to yell in worry.

Juhoon: “Baby, you cannot just disappear for 48 hours. I would call your mother, the police, the president—”

Before he can finish, you break into laughter, unable to contain the joy that comes from seeing his genuine concern.

You: “It’s a prank!!”

The relief washes over him, but it’s tinged with the weight of his earlier fear. He lets out a deep sigh, one that seems to age him ten years in an instant.

Juhoon: “Okay. Good. Because if you ever actually disappeared, I’d combust.”

In that moment, he envelops you in a long, warm hug, burying his face in your shoulder. He mumbles into your skin, his voice muffled as he expresses how you “scared the soul out of him.” You can feel the tension melting away, replaced by laughter and love, as you realize just how much he truly cares. The atmosphere shifts, now filled with warmth and lightheartedness, reminding both of you that despite the occasional misunderstandings, the bond you share is unbreakable.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙄𝙉 𝙑𝙀𝙍. — “it’s totally normal to forget your boyfriend’s name sometimes.”

Martin is reorganizing vinyls in the background, humming lightly to himself, lost in a world of music and nostalgia. The soft sounds of classic rock and soul fill the room, creating a cozy atmosphere that wraps around you like a warm blanket. You hit record on your device, ready to share a light-hearted moment with your audience.

You (cheery): “Today’s relationship tip! Sometimes, you might forget your boyfriend’s name. It happens to the best of us, so don’t stress about it.”

Suddenly, Martin freezes mid-hum, his body stiffening as he processes your words. He turns around slowly, an incredulous look on his face.

Martin: “…You forgot my NAME?”

You pretend not to notice his reaction, keeping your demeanor light and playful.

You: “Like, it’s so normal! Sometimes I’m like… what’s his name again?? Mark? Mason? Matthew? I don’t even know!”

Martin, clearly offended, raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms.

Martin: “MASON?? WHO IS MASON??”

You continue calmly, maintaining your cheerful tone.

You: “It usually comes back eventually. I think. Sometimes it takes a minute, but it’s all good.”

Martin, now walking toward you with an exaggerated expression of disbelief, leans in closer.

Martin: “No, hold on. Babe. Babe. Look at me. LOOK at me.” “You don’t forget THIS name. MARTIN. Six letters. Easy to remember!”

You shrug casually, a playful smirk creeping onto your face.

You: “I mean… it’s happened before—”

Martin, his voice rising in mock outrage, interjects.

Martin: “BEFORE? YOU’VE BEEN CALLING YOUR OTHER MEN MASON???”

You crack, laughing uncontrollably at his dramatic reaction.

You: “Baby, it’s just a prank—”

Martin, his expression shifting from concern to relief, chuckles along with you.

Martin: “Good. Because if you called me Mason, I would simply pass away right here.”

With a theatrical flair, he dramatically flops onto the couch, feigning a dramatic death as if you had just delivered a fatal blow. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, appreciating the humor in the moment. His playful demeanor lightens the atmosphere, reminding you both of the joy in your relationship. The two of you share a laugh, grateful for the ability to joke around and create memorable moments together, even if they start with a little panic over a forgotten name.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝙎𝙀𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙔𝙀𝙊𝙉 𝙑𝙀𝙍. — “if your boyfriend texts you too much, block him for a bit.”

Seonghyeon is lying on the bed behind you, quietly immersed in the process of writing lyrics, his pen gliding smoothly across the page as he finds inspiration in the stillness of the moment. You can hear the soft scratching sound of the pen as it meets the paper, a rhythm that complements the ambiance in the room perfectly.

You glance into the camera, feeling a sense of playfulness bubbling up inside you.

You: “Hey guys… so, if your boyfriend texts you too much, just like… block him. Not permanently, of course! Just for a few hours to reset his energy.”

In an instant, his pen stops moving, and you can see the confusion beginning to stir in his eyes.

Seonghyeon: “…block?”

You maintain your straight face, leaning into the humor of the moment.

You: “Yeah. Sometimes men need digital silence. It’s like having a time-out corner for their minds.”

Seonghyeon, intrigued, sits up, a look of disbelief crossing his features.

Seonghyeon: “Time-out…?? Babe, what energy am I resetting here?”

You take a deep breath, ready to explain your quirky theory.

You: “Just over-texting energy! You know how guys can get a bit clingy sometimes.”

He blinks at you, genuinely stunned, as if the concept is completely foreign to him.

Seonghyeon: “I get clingy?? ME??”

You can’t help but grin, knowing you’re poking at a sensitive spot.

You: “Sometimes, yeah. Just a little!”

Seonghyeon, feigning indignation, fires back.

Seonghyeon: “EXCUSE ME. You literally send me 21 updates when your soup boils!”

You almost break character at his accusation, fighting back laughter.

You: “Yeah, but if he does it, blocking helps—”

Seonghyeon interrupts, his curiosity piqued.

Seonghyeon: “WHO HAVE YOU BLOCKED BEFORE???”

You laugh, the tension easing as you reveal the truth.

You: “It’s a prank, babe. I swear!”

He drops his pen in relief, a grin spreading across his face as he processes your words.

Seonghyeon: “Thank god. I was about to write a breakup song in real-time! You know, something dramatic about digital silence and lost connections.”

You both burst into laughter, the earlier banter fading into a warm, comfortable moment filled with shared joy. The lightheartedness of the conversation reminds you both of the playful nature of your relationship, and you can’t help but feel grateful for the connection you share, even in the midst of joking about such silly topics.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝙆𝙀𝙊𝙉𝙃𝙊 𝙑𝙀𝙍. — “you should flirt with other guys to test if your boyfriend cares.”

Keonho is playing a game on his PC behind you, headset on, half-focused. The sound of clicking keys and digital explosions fills the room, creating a backdrop of virtual chaos. Every now and then, you hear him mumbling some strategy or reacting to something happening in the game. His concentration is palpable, but you can’t resist the urge to stir the pot a little.

You begin innocently, trying to break the monotony of his gaming session.

You: “relationship advice! you should totally flirt with other guys just to see if your boyfriend still likes you.”

Keonho takes off his headset SO FAST, as if he’s just heard the most shocking news of his life.

Keonho: “…come again?”

You, maintaining your calm demeanor, respond confidently: “like harmless flirting! it builds trust. if he gets jealous, it means he loves you.”

Keonho, incredulous, crosses his arms and shakes his head vigorously: “NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. what trust?? WHY WOULD JEALOUSY BE THE TEST???”

You continue, undeterred by his reaction:

You: “i mean, experience taught me—”

Before you can finish your thought, Keonho stands up instantly, his eyes wide with disbelief: “WHAT EXPERIENCE?? WHO DID YOU FLIRT WITH?? WHEN?? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS???”

He starts pacing the room, back and forth, as if he’s trying to process a complex equation or a sudden existential crisis. The sight of him pacing is both amusing and alarming.

Keonho: “babe, tell me their names! I just want to talk—”

You break into laughter, unable to contain your amusement at his over-the-top reaction.

You: “it’s a PRANK. baby. relax.”

He stops pacing immediately, squinting at you as if trying to gauge whether you’re serious or just messing with him.

Keonho: “oh… okay. cool. cool cool cool. good. because I was about to BLOCK every man on your campus.”

He plops down next to you, leaning on your shoulder dramatically, his earlier tension dissipating into a theatrical display of relief.

Keonho: “don’t test my blood pressure like that, please. You know I can’t handle surprises. Just when I think I’m in a stable relationship, you go and throw a curveball at me!”

You chuckle, appreciating the fact that he cares so much.

You: “Come on, you know I’d never actually do that! I’m just teasing you. Besides, you’re the only guy I want to flirt with anyway.”

Keonho rolls his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face despite himself.

Keonho: “Yeah, yeah, just remember: if anyone flirts with you, I’ll have to make a few calls. You know, to set the record straight.”

You can’t help but smile at his protective nature. In his own unique way, he always finds a way to make you feel special, even when he’s in the middle of his gaming world. It’s moments like these that remind you how much you appreciate him—quirks and all.

─────────────── ⭒๋࣭⭑ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⭒๋࣭⭑

Keonho x Reader — water, chaos, boyfriend who tries his best, couple goals.

୨ৎ 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘗𝘢𝘨𝘦

…was a dangerous, dangerous place.

You were curled up on the couch, phone hovering an inch from your nose, watching your fifteenth bare minimum vs princess treatment TikTok. Girls were asking their boyfriends trick questions, boyfriends were failing miserably, water hoses were flying, and every single video had captions like:

“my man FAILED 😭😭”

“he said bare minimum for THIS? be safe out there ladies.”

“my bf got jumped by the hose.”

You gasped, slapped your leg, and sat up straight.

“𝘖𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘥. Keonho.”

From the kitchen, your boyfriend peeked around the corner like a startled deer, hair fluffy, hoodie half-zipped, munching on cereal at 3pm.

“Hm?”

His eyes widened with immediate, misguided trust. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You smiled sweetly.

He should’ve run.

He didn’t.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘺.

You bounced off the couch and grabbed his wrist.

“Keonho, let’s do a TikTok trend!”

He blinked. “…Okay!”

Just like that. No hesitation.

So naive. So innocent. So boyfriend.

“It’s the ‘bare minimum or princess treatment’ challenge.”

“Oh! That sounds cute! And easy!”

He smiled—SMILED—as if his destiny wasn’t to be soaked like a stray cat.

You folded your arms. “Yeah? You sure you’re ready to be honest?”

“Of course.”

He puffed up proudly. “I treat you well!”

“…We’ll see.”

His smile faltered.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒

font: tumblr-aesthetic chaos | lighting: golden hour | outfit vibe: couple-core

You dragged him to the backyard, the sun beautifully setting, turning everything peachy pink. Aesthetics? Immaculate.

You set up your phone, grabbed the water hose, and held it like a weapon.

Keonho: “Why do you need that?”

You: “Don’t worry about it.”

Keonho: worries about it.

You press record.

────── 1. “Opening the door for me.”

“Princess treatment.”

You beam.

He stays dry.

────── 2. “Buying me snacks when I’m on my period.”

“Bare minimum.”

You gasp dramatically.

Still dry.

────── 3. “Letting me wear your clothes.”

“Princess treat—no. Wait. Bare—no. Princess… minimum…?”

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

His brain blue-screens.

You spray him.

“H-HEY!!! WHY??”

“You hesitated.”

“It was TWO ANSWERS AT ONCE—!!!”

He shakes off water like a confused puppy.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

More questions come.

──── 4. “Carrying my bag when I get tired.”

“Princess treatment.”

Correct.

──── 5. “Letting me have the last bite of food.”

“Bare— PRINCESS— Wait— NO— That’s—”

He gets sprayed.

“WH— I DIDN’T EVEN PICK YET—”

“Exactly.”

──── 6. “Texting me goodnight first.”

He smiles softly.

“Bare minimum. Because I want to.”

You blush.

You don’t spray him.

He preens like a soaked little peacock.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐂

After the tenth spray, Keonho stands there dripping.

Dripping.

Dripping.

His hoodie is heavy, hair plastered to his forehead, looking like a betrayed golden retriever.

“This game is rigged.”

“It’s not!”

“You literally SMILE before you spray me.”

“That’s because you’re cute!”

He narrows his eyes.

You gulp.

“…Keonho?”

He steps forward slowly.

Purposefully.

“Put the hose down.”

You don’t.

“Y/N.”

You smile sweetly.

“Yeah”

He lunges.

“KEONHO NO!!”

He scoops you up bridal-style

You scream

He spins

You flail

And suddenly YOU are the one getting soaked.

“PUT ME DOWN IT’S COLD— KEONHO”

“Oh, now YOU don’t like it??”

He grabs the hose.

He gets revenge.

Big revenge.

Loud revenge.

Aesthetic, glitter-sparkle golden hour revenge.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒 : 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒

You’re both drenched, laughing, slipping in puddles, clothes clinging, hair dripping.

You splash him.

He splashes you harder.

You try to run.

He catches you instantly (long legs cheat code).

You collapse into giggles.

He kisses your forehead.

Salty water. Warm skin. Sunset behind him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters.

“You love me THAT much?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

You shove him.

He kisses you again.

And the TikTok?

It ends with both of you screaming while water sprays in every direction.

Top comment:

“he won the war but lost the battle 😭😭😭”

“THE WAY SHE SAID ‘GETTING ME WET’ AND HIS SOUL ASCENDED”

someone check on keonho pls he fought for his LIFE”

────୨ৎ────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

────୨ৎ────

✦ Martin

Martin’s ideal partner is someone who is as passionate and dedicated to their own craft as he is to his music. She doesn’t need to be in the creative industry, but she has a clear vision and a relentless work ethic that he finds incredibly attractive and inspiring. He’d love dating someone with a slightly quirky sense of humor who isn’t afraid to gently challenge his ideas, keeping him grounded and constantly pushing his creativity. She’s the type of person who is completely authentic, valuing genuine connection and thoughtful conversation over superficial trends, and who loves to have deep, spontaneous discussions about everything from music theory to philosophy late into the night.

He’s the kind of person who would fall for someone who radiates quiet confidence the one who doesn’t need to demand attention but somehow always captures his. Martin would admire a partner who can both laugh with him over dumb inside jokes and then turn around to have the kind of heart-to-heart that lingers in his mind for days. He’s drawn to someone whose presence feels like peace, someone who can listen to him ramble about a chord progression for thirty minutes but still meet him halfway in her own passions. When she smiles at him after hearing a song he wrote, that’s all the validation he needs.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✦ James

James looks for someone with a bright, positive energy who can keep up with his active lifestyle. He’s drawn to a person who is graceful and confident, not just in how they move, but in how they carry themselves and handle life’s challenges. His ideal type is someone who loves to explore and travel a spontaneous adventure-seeker who might suggest trying a new dance style or visiting a hidden gem of a city on a whim. While he’s focused on precision in his performances, he wants his partner to be the easy-going, reassuring presence who helps him relax and find balance when he’s stressed.

He loves the idea of a relationship that feels like an ongoing adventure early morning coffee runs before sunrise, late-night drives with music blasting, messy kitchen dance sessions when they’re supposed to be cooking dinner. James wants someone who brings laughter into his life, who teases him just enough to keep things playful but always knows when to be serious. He admires someone who’s self-assured, who knows her worth, and who can stand beside him as his equal, not his shadow. The kind of love that’s all teamwork, trust, and shared playlists.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✦ Juhoon

Juhoon is drawn to someone with a warm, comforting presence who has a strong emotional intelligence. His ideal partner is someone who is a great listener, offering him a safe space where he can be completely vulnerable and honest without judgment. She would have a gentle and supportive nature, appreciating the small, meaningful gestures in a relationship, like a home-cooked meal or a quiet evening spent simply talking. She brings a calm stability to his life and encourages him to express his emotions, both in and out of the studio.

He values someone who doesn’t just understand him but feels him someone who can read the little things he doesn’t say out loud. The type of partner who remembers how he takes his coffee, who knows when to comfort him with silence instead of words. Juhoon is deeply sentimental, so he falls for subtle acts of care, like a note slipped into his bag or a text saying, “I’m proud of you.” To him, love isn’t loud or flashy it’s soft, steady, and built on trust. His ideal person is the kind of love that feels like home after a long day.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✦ Seonghyeon

Seonghyeon’s ideal type is a thoughtful and intellectually curious person who has a rich inner world. He appreciates someone who has an eye for detail and can notice the small, beautiful moments in everyday life, providing inspiration for his compositions. He would love dating someone who shares his curiosity and loves to read or learn about new topics, engaging him in lively debates and introducing him to new perspectives. Ultimately, he wants a partner who can be his muse and his best friend, someone whose unique viewpoint adds texture and depth to his creative process.

He’s the kind of person who falls for conversations that last too long and glances that say too much. Seonghyeon would be captivated by someone whose creativity shines quietly — the girl who hums while she paints or who collects random little things because they “feel like poetry.” He loves when someone can challenge him intellectually but also tease him enough to make him laugh mid-writing session. His ideal type isn’t perfect; she’s real, raw, and endlessly fascinating the kind of person who makes him want to write about love just to understand her better.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✦ Keonho

Keonho’s ideal type is someone with a vibrant, creative flair and a distinctive personal style. He’s looking for a partner who isn’t afraid to express their individuality and who brings a fun, almost youthful excitement to the relationship. She would be an open-minded and expressive person who is always eager to try new things and see the world through an artistic lens, whether that’s through film, fashion, or photography. He enjoys someone who makes him laugh and constantly reminds him to take a playful, optimistic approach to life.

He’s drawn to girls who have a little bit of chaos in the best way the ones who talk with their hands, who send random memes at 2 a.m., and who can turn an ordinary day into something cinematic. Keonho admires someone who’s confident in her weirdness, someone who can match his energy when he’s being a goof but also knows how to ground him when things get serious. His ideal partner feels like color bright, unpredictable, and impossible to forget. The kind of person who makes every moment with her feel like the best part of a movie.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

note: thank you anon for the lovely request ˚₊‧♡‧₊˚

i had way too much fun writing this hopefully it matches what you were imagining <3

₊˚⊹ aesthetic: late-night city lights · film camera energy · streetlight glow · soft laughter · couple-core chaos

✦ genre: fluff · humor · chaotic couple energy

✦ pairing: seonghyeon x reader

✦ note: requested by a lovely anon! thank u for this request 💌 i had too much fun writing seonghyeon’s awkward yet flirty energy here 😭 hope it’s everything u imagined ♡

⸻

⋆﹥✮ ⋆﹥✮ ⋆﹥✮⋆

the idea hits you around 9:47 p.m.

you’re scrolling through tiktok, half-eating chips, when the “bust down thotiana” trend pops up again on your fyp couples lip-syncing to the audio, playfully teasing each other while the streetlights make everything look cinematic.

you grin.

yeah, that’s happening tonight.

y/n: “seonghyeon.”

seonghyeon: “hm?” (he’s on the couch, hood up, phone half on his chest.)

y/n: “we’re filming a tiktok.”

seonghyeon: “oh no.”

y/n: “oh yes.”

he groans dramatically, burying his face in a pillow.

you pull it away. “come on! it’s cute! everyone’s doing it.”

“everyone’s also sleeping like normal people,” he mutters.

but you’re already grabbing your tripod and fixing your lip gloss.

⸻

⋆﹥✮ ⋆﹥✮ ⋆﹥✮⋆

scene: outside your apartment building

the night is warm and the streetlight above flickers faintly yellow light painting both of your faces in soft glow.

he’s wearing a grey hoodie and baggy cargos, his silver chain glinting faintly. you, in your cropped baby tee and Y2K cargo skirt, look effortlessly cool your energy buzzing with excitement.

“okay,” you say, phone propped up. “i’ll start. when it’s your line, look at me like… that.”

“like what?”

“you know, that thing you do when you look all serious but also like you want to kiss me.”

“oh my god,” he groans.

“yeah exactly like that,” you tease, laughing.

he rolls his eyes but steps closer anyway, his height shadowing yours a little.

⸻

🎥 TAKE 1

you start lip-syncing your part softly — “maybe one…”

you pan the camera to him when it’s his turn.

he bursts out laughing mid-line. “i can’t, i can’t, i look stupid.”

“you always look stupid,” you joke.

“bro.”

“nah, do it properly! one more!”

⸻

🎥 TAKE 3

this time, he’s leaning against the wall, hoodie slightly pulled up to show his jawline (on purpose, you swear).

you cage him in with your hands, palms flat on either side of his shoulders, and he immediately starts smirking.

“you’re too close,” he murmurs.

“that’s the point,” you say, whispering it back like it’s a secret.

you lip-sync your part again, perfectly this time.

then it’s his turn.

seonghyeon (in a low voice, mouthing): “bust down thotiana, i wanna see you bust down—”

he finishes the line, still maintaining eye contact, and you instantly break character with a laugh.

“STOPPP YOU WERE TOO INTO IT 😭😭😭”

“you told me to take it seriously!!”

“not like THAT 😭😭😭”

⸻

🎥 TAKE 7

“okay,” you say, breathing through your laughter, “final one. if you laugh, i’m posting all the bloopers.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“i would.”

so this time, he behaves.

you go through your lines perfectly, and when it’s his turn, he bites his lip (very much on purpose), does his line with just the right mix of seriousness and playfulness, and ends it with a wink.

“oh my god,” you say as soon as the camera stops. “you winked.”

“you said make it good.”

“no i said flirty, not flirt-at-the-speed-of-light.”

he shrugs, smirking. “same thing.”

⸻

later, when you’re editing the clip, you can’t stop laughing at the failed takes the one where he accidentally hit the tripod, the one where a car honked mid-line, and the one where he said “bust down” too aggressively and scared a cat.

but the final one?

perfect.

you post it with the caption:

“just another night w/ my favorite headache 💋 #bustdownthotiana #fyp #couplecore”

and within an hour, it blows up.

comments flood in:

“why are they so chaotic but still hot 😭😭”

“this looks straight out of a movie HELLO??”

“he was too into it. protect y/n 😭😭😭”

you show him the numbers climbing on your phone.

he leans over your shoulder, scrolling through the comments.

“see?” you say proudly. “worth it.”

he grins, nudging you lightly. “fine. maybe i’m a tiktok boy now.”

“say that again but seriously,” you tease.

“never.”

you roll your eyes, hitting play again.

the two of you watch yourselves on screen streetlight glow, shared laughter, quiet closeness and suddenly, even he can’t deny it:

it’s kinda perfect.

⸻

╰┈➤ ♡ author’s note ♡

thank u sm for the request !! i adore writing these soft chaotic couple tiktok moments they’re so them 😭💞 i hope this gave u all the late-night streetlight serotonin u needed. @pochacco-baby

Ask and you shall receive. Hope you enjoy!!

꒰𓏲ִ໋🌷₊˚.𖦹 — boyfriend moments w/ MARTIN ˖⁺. ꒱

— ✦ “bust down thotiana” trend w/ martin

⌗ pairing : martin x reader

⌗ genre : fluff ✦ humor ✦ flirty ✦ soft teen chaos

⌗ theme : two teenagers, a viral trend, streetlights, laughter, and unintentional heart-racing tension.

⌗ summary:

a late-night TikTok turns into laughter, chaos, and a little too much heart-fluttering under the streetlight. martin’s the perfect mix of goofy and flirty, and somehow — you both accidentally make the internet fall in love with you again.

⌗ author’s note : thank u so much for requesting this 🫶 i had so much fun writing it i hope this is exactly what u imagined! martin was born to be a chaotic tiktok boyfriend tbh. enjoy <3

It started, like most of your impulsive ideas, at 11:47 p.m.

You were sprawled across Martin’s bed, phone brightness low, thumb scrolling through TikTok when the “Bust Down Thotiana” trend appeared on your “For You” page. The video was dimly lit, a couple lip-syncing under a streetlight, their timing perfect, the energy effortlessly magnetic.

You grinned instantly. Yeah. You and Martin could totally nail that.

“Babe,” you said, rolling onto your stomach, “we’re doing this.”

Martin, half-asleep beside you, cracked one eye open. “Doing what?”

You turned your phone toward him, showing the video. “This trend.”

He squinted at the screen, unimpressed. “You want me to say ‘bust down thotiana’ on camera?”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “Publicly?”

“Yes.”

He groaned, face half-buried in his pillow. “You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

“Tragically,” he muttered, but he was already sitting up, hair a mess, eyes sleepy but amused.

⌗ 12:04 a.m. — outside, under the flickering streetlight

You set up your phone against a short wall, checking the angle in the camera. The street was quiet except for the hum of the lamp and the occasional car passing by. Your outfit caught the faint glow Y2K-style low-rise jeans, a cropped top with metallic details, silver hoops. Martin stood beside you in a loose white tee under a black leather jacket, chain glinting when he moved.

He looked effortlessly cool annoyingly so.

“Okay,” you said, turning to face him, “you’re supposed to lean against the wall like this.”

You demonstrated, one hand braced against the brick, the other holding your phone.

Martin leaned too, mimicking you only he was taller, so he had to bend down slightly to meet your level. “Like this?”

You nodded. “Perfect.”

He smirked. “You mean hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make me laugh. I need to keep a straight face for this.”

He leaned closer, voice low. “You never keep a straight face when I’m around.”

You glared playfully. “Martin.”

He grinned. “Y/N.”

You hit record before you could lose your nerve.

🎬 Take 1

The audio started — “maybe 1…”

You panned the camera toward yourself, eyes soft, voice low as you lip-synced the line. Then you turned it toward Martin.

“Bust down thotiana, bust down thotiana, I wanna see you bust down—”

He delivered his part with full energy, biting his lip, voice deeper, playful. You completely lost it halfway through, breaking character and snorting.

“Stop!” you laughed, clutching your stomach. “You look too serious”

“I was in character!” he protested.

“You looked like you were auditioning for a music video!”

“Maybe I was!” he said, striking a pose, and you had to stop the recording because you were laughing too hard.

🎬 Take 2

“Okay, one more time,” you said, wiping your eyes.

Martin leaned back against the wall again, trying not to smile. The streetlight painted soft gold over his jawline, his hair slightly mussed.

You took your position, lifted the phone, and began again.

“Maybe 1…”

He mouthed, “Bust down thotiana…”

This time, he smirked halfway through, sliding his hands into his pockets, eyes locked on you as he crouched down a little to match your height.

You tried to keep your cool, but when you met his gaze, the words tangled on your tongue.

“Lost my— wait—no, I messed up again!”

Martin chuckled, stepping forward. “You got flustered.”

“I did not.”

“You did,” he teased, grin widening. “Admit it. My charm is unmatched.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly. “Shut up and reset.”

🎬 Take 3 — The One

This time, you both silently promised to keep it together.

“Maybe 1,” you said, soft, camera close.

You panned to him.

“Bust down thotiana, bust down thotiana, I wanna see you bust down.”

Martin’s tone was perfect confident, low, playful and when you leaned in to say your next line, your hand pressed against the wall beside his head, caging him in. The air felt heavier, your heartbeat louder.

“Lost my mind…” you whispered, still in sync with the track.

His smirk faltered just a little, eyes flicking from your lips back to your eyes. He mouthed,

“Pick it up, now break that shit down, pick it up”

You barely remembered your cue.

“No one noticed…”

And then the clip ended.

For a second, neither of you moved. You were close enough to feel his breath brush your cheek. The night was quiet again, the only sound your quickened pulse.

Finally, Martin blinked, breaking the moment. “So… do I get a TikTok credit or something?”

You laughed, stepping back and hitting stop. “You get the honor of being my viral co-star.”

“Good,” he said, grinning. “Because if I went through public humiliation for this, I better be trending by morning.”

You uploaded it at 1 a.m., captioned simply:

‘maybe 1… 🖤’

Within hours, your notifications blew up. The comments poured in:

“the way he crouched down for her 😭😭😭”

“fashion couple of the year???”

“they look like they stepped out of a music video omg.”

“can they stop making being in love look this cool??”

By morning, you showed Martin the numbers 3.2 million views overnight.

He scrolled through the comments, pretending to frown. “They’re calling me TikTok boyfriend material.”

“You are TikTok boyfriend material,” you teased.

He leaned closer, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “Only for you.”

You grinned. “Shut up. That’s so cheesy.”

He smirked. “Cheesy gets views.”

⌗ author’s end note:

— ✦ “𝐌𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝” 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐖/ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧

⌗ pairing : martin x reader

⌗ genre : fluff ✦ humor ✦ possessive boyfriend ✦ chaotic energy

⌗ theme : tiktok trends + jealous boyfriends = viral disaster waiting to happen

⌗ author’s note : martin is the kind of boyfriend who pretends he’s chill until you test him. Hope you guys enjoy!!!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You set your phone against the coffee table tripod, pretending to scroll through something nonchalant. Martin was lounging on the couch in one of your hoodies, hair slightly messy, completely oblivious. You’d been waiting all day to do this TikTok trend one where you introduce your boyfriend to the camera by saying, “This is my current boyfriend.” The reactions online were hilarious. You wanted to see what Martin would do.

“Hey, babe?” you said casually, turning toward him.

He hummed without looking up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“I’m filming something really quick. Don’t move, okay?”

“Sure,” he muttered, scrolling. “As long as I don’t have to dance, I’m chill.”

You grinned. “No dancing, promise.”

You pressed record and faced the camera, smiling sweetly. “Okay, so this is my current boyfriend—”

Martin’s head shot up immediately. “Current??”

You froze, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah. My current boyfriend.”

He blinked at you, expression twisting from confusion to disbelief. “I’m sorry current?” He set his phone down slowly, like processing a crime scene. “What do you mean, current? Is there a waiting list I didn’t know about?”

You broke into laughter. “It’s just for the video, babe—”

Martin leaned forward, offended but adorably dramatic. “A trend of disrespect? You’re really gonna sit there and call me your current boyfriend? No. No, we’re not doing that.”

“It’s supposed to be funny!” you said between giggles.

“Funny to who?” He pointed at himself. “Not to me! The internet’s gonna think I’m temporary. Do I look temporary to you?”

You couldn’t stop laughing as he stood up, now full of attitude. “Babe—”

He cut you off, gesturing wildly. “I fold your laundry. I buy you snacks at 2AM. That’s not current! That’s eternal commitment! That’s lifetime warranty energy!”

You leaned against the counter, tears of laughter forming in your eyes. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic??” He gasped, putting a hand on his chest. “I’m defending my honor!”

You took a deep breath to stop laughing. “Martin, it’s literally just a TikTok trend. Everyone’s doing it.”

He crossed his arms. “And everyone’s wrong. You better caption it correctly. Something like” he paused, tilting his head, “my forever boyfriend.’ Yeah, that’s the one.”

You smirked. “What if I caption it ‘my current boyfriend (for now)’?”

His jaw dropped. “Then I’m captioning my next post ‘my ex-girlfriend.’”

That made you laugh so hard you almost dropped your phone. “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me,” he said with a grin, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement now. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Go ahead. Call me current again. See what happens.”

You smiled up at him. “What will happen?”

He leaned in closer until his nose brushed yours. “I’ll remind you who your forever boyfriend is.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm. “Fine, fine. I’ll change it.”

“Good,” he said, smug again as he flopped back on the couch. “Now let me review the footage before you post it. I need to make sure I look boyfriend-material level hot.”

You shook your head, laughing, and later of course you posted it anyway. Caption:

“my current boyfriend 💋 (he didn’t like this one 😭)”

Within hours, the video went viral.

Comments flooded in:

“the way he said ‘lifetime warranty energy’ 😭😭😭”

“martin’s reaction had me in TEARS 💀💀”

“he’s jealous but in the cutest way possible.”

“protect him at all costs.”

When you showed Martin the comments, he huffed, pretending to be annoyed. “Great. Now the internet thinks I’m dramatic.”

“You are dramatic,” you teased.

He gave you a look, then smiled, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah… but you love me anyway.”

You nudged him with a grin. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately??” he said, feigning another gasp. “Keep talking like that and I’m starting a trend called ‘my dramatic girlfriend.’”

You giggled. “Do it.”

He leaned closer, grinning. “Bet.”

✧ 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒 ✧

“𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 😭”

╰────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────╯

summary:

you meant to text your best friend about the cute barista she’s been crushing on… but accidentally send it to your boyfriend. jealousy, chaos, dramatic reactions, and a whole lot of “😐 babe… what???” ensue.

🧸 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 🧸

☁️ 𝐉𝐔𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ☁️

🐻 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍 🐻

🖤 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 🖤

🐺 𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐎 🐺

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝!!!

ִ ࣪ ˖ ࣪ ᨰꫀᥣᥴ᥆ꩇꫀ ! ᰔ ִ ׄ

˙⋆✮ This is such a boyfriend-core scenario.half panic, half tenderness.they mean well, they’re trying so hard, and they’re getting roasted by the pad aisle. pure love in the most chaotic way.

˙⋆✮ Do you guys know any apps where I can add pictures to the text? The one I am using right now I would have to pay to be able to do that. If you know plz let me know 🙏 Thank you so much for the support on my first Cortis blog!!

✮✮✮

────୨ৎ────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ James 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

✮✮✮

────୨ৎ────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Martin 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

✮✮✮

────୨ৎ────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Juhoon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

✮✮✮

────୨ৎ────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Seonghyeon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

✮✮✮

────୨ৎ────

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Keonho 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

✮✮✮

────୨ৎ────

✮✮✮

Thx for reading <3

ﾒ૦ﾒ૦💋

————————————————————————

~~ aka how the members of CORTIS handled jealousy when u told them “some guy paid for my nails” 😭

⟡ ─── ✦ ─── ⟡

✨ ˚₊· 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 ₊˚ 💳

🐻 ˚₊· 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧 ₊˚ 💳

☁️ ˚₊· 𝐣𝐮𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 ₊˚ 💳

🦋 ˚₊· 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧 ₊˚ 💳

🩶 ˚₊· 𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐡𝐨 ₊˚ 💳

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

♡ ︎Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

♡ ︎Warning : None

♡ ︎WC : 2,265

♡ ︎Previous Chapters : 1/2

♡ ︎A/N : This is officially the last chapter of Winning the Breakup :( Tell me your thoughts on this story. What can I improve on, anything I could do differently. I am open to constructive criticism. Hope you guys enjoy!!!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

The gym was filled with the sharp sounds of sneakers squeaking against the polished wooden floors, the cheers from the bleachers, and the high-pitched whistle of the referee as the game reached its final moments. It was the championship match for KISS’s volleyball team, and Y/N was in the middle of it all, focused, determined, her heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the game.

The crowd was on their feet, the excitement palpable. It had been a long season, and Y/N had pushed herself through everything—late-night practices, tough workouts, and endless drills. But this game… this game was different. The stakes were higher. The championship was within their grasp, and she wasn’t about to let anything—or anyone—get in her way.

The ball came flying at her from the other side of the court, fast and sharp. She jumped to intercept it, her eyes locked on the target. For a split second, time seemed to slow as she made contact, sending the ball soaring toward the opposing team. But as she came down, her foot landed awkwardly, and a sharp pain shot through her ankle.

She gasped, her body teetering for a moment before she collapsed to the floor. The gymnasium fell silent, the cheers fading into a distant hum as everyone turned to see what had happened.

“Y/N!”

It was Minho’s voice, unmistakable, filled with panic. He was already off the bleachers and sprinting toward her before anyone else could react.

Y/N gritted her teeth, clutching her ankle as she tried to push herself up. But the pain was too much—her vision blurred for a moment, and she collapsed back onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Minho shouted again, reaching her side. His face was a mask of concern, his usual confident smile gone, replaced with worry. He knelt beside her, taking her hand gently. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I—I’m fine,” Y/N winced, biting her lip as she tried to shift her weight, but the throbbing in her ankle was unbearable. “I just… I think I twisted it.”

Minho’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing. “You need to get checked out. I’m not letting you walk this off.”

“Minho, it’s fine,” she protested weakly, but the pain in her ankle spoke louder than any words she could muster.

Before she could argue further, the team’s coach and a few teammates had arrived, kneeling down beside her. “Y/N, don’t move. We’re going to get you to the sidelines,” the coach said, her voice firm but caring.

With Minho’s help, Y/N was carefully lifted and guided off the court, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as each step jostled her injured foot. Her mind raced, but all she could think about was the overwhelming pain in her ankle and the sting of disappointment that she wouldn’t be able to finish the game.

“You’ll be okay,” Minho said softly, his voice low and comforting. He stayed by her side, never letting go of her hand as they made their way to the sidelines.

The rest of the game seemed like a blur. The sounds of the match faded as Y/N’s focus remained on the injury. She could hear the crowd, but it felt distant—like she was in her own world.

Her teammates were doing their best to play without her, but Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt. She had worked so hard for this moment. The championship… and now she was on the sidelines, injured, unable to help.

Minho stayed with her through the entire ordeal, refusing to leave her side. He offered comfort, making her laugh even when she felt like she might cry. The game was over, and although KISS’s volleyball team won, Y/N’s joy was overshadowed by the pain in her ankle.

Later that evening, after the game had ended, Minho drove Y/N to the hospital. The ride was quiet, aside from Y/N’s occasional wince and the soft hum of the car’s engine. Minho kept glancing at her, his face tense with concern.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” Y/N said after a while, her voice quiet. “I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “I know. But I’m not leaving you alone, Y/N. You mean too much to me.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. It was the way he said it, so sure, so certain. She had known it for a while now—she had always known—but hearing him say it out loud, in this moment, made everything feel real.

When they arrived at the hospital, Y/N was quickly assessed by a doctor, who confirmed that she had sprained her ankle and would need to wear a walking boot for at least a few weeks. She also had to use crutches to help her get around, which, for someone as active as Y/N, felt like a huge blow.

The doctor gave her a prescription for pain relief, and after some paperwork, they were free to go.

Minho helped her into the car, being extra careful with her injured foot. As they drove back to campus, he kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was clearly on Y/N.

“You’re going to be okay,” Minho said again, his tone almost as if he was reassuring himself.

“I know,” she replied, her voice softer now, a little less defiant than usual. She knew Minho was trying to be strong for her, but she couldn’t deny that she was a little shaken. “I just feel like I let everyone down. I worked so hard for this season, and now I can’t even finish the championship game.”

Minho’s expression softened, and he gently placed his hand on hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You didn’t let anyone down, Y/N. You’re the heart of the team. You’ve given everything, and that’s what matters. Winning the game is important, but your health is more important. And besides, we all know you’ll be back in action in no time.”

Y/N smiled, grateful for his support. “You’re right. I just… I hate being stuck like this.”

Minho chuckled. “I’ll make sure to spoil you while you’re on crutches. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I think you’re already spoiling me enough as it is.”

Minho grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Good. Because that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

As they arrived at Y/N’s dorm, Minho helped her out of the car and up to her room. She sat on the bed, and he made sure her foot was propped up properly with pillows before going to grab her crutches.

“You really don’t have to do all of this,” Y/N said, watching as Minho carefully adjusted her crutches, his focus entirely on making sure she was comfortable. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know you are,” Minho said, standing back to admire his work. “But I want to do this. Besides, I’d rather be here taking care of you than sitting on the sidelines.”

Y/N smiled up at him, feeling a rush of affection. “Thanks, Minho. I really appreciate it.”

Minho grinned back, his eyes softening. “Anything for you.”

The days following Y/N’s injury had been a whirlwind of doctors’ appointments, pain management, and trying to get used to navigating campus on crutches with a bulky walking boot on her foot. The first few days had been the toughest—feeling vulnerable and completely out of her element as she limped through the hallways of KISS, trying to keep up with her usual routine while dealing with the discomfort. But what made it bearable was the constant presence of Minho and the rest of her friends, who seemed to make it their personal mission to ensure she didn’t feel alone.

It had become a sort of unspoken routine, really. Minho was always there, waiting for her before class, walking alongside her with a protective arm around her waist, his presence as comforting as a warm blanket on a chilly day. He even carried her backpack, which, despite her protests, he insisted on doing.

“Minho, seriously,” Y/N would say, wincing as she tried to shift her weight on the crutches. “I can carry it myself.”

But Minho would just shoot her a mischievous smile, giving her a wink. “Yeah, sure, with one hand and a crutch? Not happening. Let me do this.”

Y/N had given up after the third day of him insisting, realizing that she might as well let him spoil her a little. After all, it wasn’t every day she had a personal assistant in the form of a cute, caring boyfriend.

The others chipped in too, of course. Kitty, always the optimist, would make sure that every class felt like a mini adventure. “I got your notes for you today, Y/N! And you can totally count on me to run to the vending machine and grab you some snacks. What flavor of chips are you craving?”

Y/N would laugh, her eyes brightening, her heart swelling with gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver, Kitty. Salt and vinegar, please.”

Dae, the ever-enthusiastic presence, would always find a way to make her laugh. He had a knack for getting under her skin, and even with her crutches, Y/N could never stay annoyed at him for long. “You know,” Dae would say with a grin, “you’re gonna be so fit after this. You’ll have biceps bigger than mine from all the crutching around!”

Q would snicker in response, but then reach out to offer her his hand whenever they were walking through busy hallways. “If you need help getting around, you just let me know. I know a shortcut to the cafe that will save you at least five minutes,” Q said, always practical and thoughtful.

And then, of course, there was Yuri, who despite her usual tough exterior, would soften whenever she saw Y/N struggling. “I’ll help you with your homework later, okay?” Yuri offered, her voice calm and caring. “I know you’re not going to ask for help, but I’m here if you need it.”

And Minho… Minho was always there, always hovering just a little bit closer, his concern palpable every time he saw her try to move too fast or push herself too hard. He’d always make sure she didn’t overexert herself, offering to fetch her anything she needed, from coffee to a blanket.

One afternoon, after a particularly exhausting day of classes, Minho walked with her to the bench outside, where they could sit in the sun for a while. The rest of the group had scattered to finish their assignments or hang out with other people, leaving Y/N and Minho alone for the moment.

Y/N lowered herself onto the bench with a relieved sigh, her crutches resting against the side. Minho sat next to her, his body angled so he could face her, his hand immediately reaching for hers.

“You doing okay?” Minho asked, his voice gentle, his gaze soft. There was a warmth in his eyes, a quiet care that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to smile, but the exhaustion was evident on her face. “Just… tired. I miss playing volleyball. I hate being stuck like this.”

Minho’s thumb gently stroked over her hand, his touch soothing. “I know. I hate seeing you like this, too. But hey, you’re going to be back on the court before you know it. In the meantime, I’ve got your back.” He paused, then added with a playful smirk, “Literally. I’m carrying everything for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Minho’s expression softened. “But I’m your ridiculous, right?” He grinned, his gaze shifting to the walking boot on her foot. “And, just so you know, I don’t mind being your crutch in more ways than one.”

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes twinkling despite her frustration. “You’re so corny, Minho. But… I guess it’s kind of sweet, huh?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the top of her hand, making her heart skip a beat. “I’m serious, Y/N. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

And she knew, in that moment, that Minho truly meant it. He had always been there, standing by her side through thick and thin. It wasn’t just about carrying her backpack or helping her navigate campus on crutches. It was about being her support, her safe place. No matter what came next—no matter how many hurdles she faced—he was there, ready to help her get through it.

Later that evening, as they sat together in the library studying for finals, Minho had a way of keeping her mind off her injury. Every so often, he’d tease her about her “ridiculous crutch muscles,” and it would make her laugh, breaking the tension that had built up in her chest.

It wasn’t just the big things that mattered, but these small moments too. Minho carrying her backpack, holding her hand, offering her help without being asked. And though she was still adjusting to her injury, Y/N realized that sometimes the best kind of support came in the form of laughter, love, and the little things that made the hard days a bit easier.

With Minho by her side—and her incredible friends cheering her on—she knew she’d get through this injury, stronger and more determined than ever. After all, she wasn’t in this alone. And with that thought, her heart swelled, knowing that no matter what, she had a team behind her.

And that was more than enough.

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

ৎ୭ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

ৎ୭ Warnings : None

ৎ୭ WC : 1,129



ৎ୭ Previous Chapters : 14

ৎ୭ A/N : Hope you guys enjoy this is part one of the special chapters.

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Epilogue: A New Beginning

The cold breeze of early spring swept through the KISS campus as students filed into the building for the first day of the new semester. The sun was still low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the school grounds, signaling the start of a new chapter not just in their academic lives, but in the lives of Minho and Y/N.

The last few months had been a whirlwind. After their New Year’s Eve marathon—which turned into an unforgettable night of laughs, snacks, and stolen kisses—things had settled into a comfortable rhythm. They were no longer just a couple pretending for the sake of exes, nor were they two people fumbling through their feelings. No, they were together, fully, and it was as easy as breathing.

They were still Minho and Y/N, the two people who started off fake dating as a joke. But now, there was no joke. There was love. There was the shared morning coffee before classes, the late-night walks when everything felt like it was just the two of them in the world, and the sweet, unspoken understanding that no matter how chaotic life got, they had each other.

As Y/N stood in front of her dorm room, organizing her books for the day, her phone buzzed with a text from Minho.

Minho: “You ready for the first day back? Or are you still in denial that break is over?”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly before typing a response.

Y/N: “Just getting my life together. Give me five minutes, I’ll be ready.”

She hit send and slipped her phone into her bag, giving herself a once-over in the mirror before grabbing her jacket and heading out the door.

When she arrived at the school’s main entrance, there was Minho, standing casually by a bench, hands in his pockets, waiting for her with that signature half-smile that always made her heart skip. It had only been a few months since they’d admitted their feelings, but it already felt like he’d always been in her life.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted, her voice warm with affection.

Minho’s eyes lit up as he stepped forward, his lips curling into a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead. Did you actually get some sleep last night, or were you busy planning for your next Netflix binge?”

Y/N laughed. “I slept for five hours, thank you very much.”

“Five hours? You’re lucky if I got that much,” Minho said dramatically, though his voice softened when he added, “but I guess I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.”

Y/N smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. It had been so easy to fall for him, and in a way, she couldn’t believe how much she had grown to rely on him. Their relationship had blossomed in the most natural of ways, with each of them supporting the other, helping each other grow, and loving each other fiercely.

As they walked through the campus toward their first class of the semester, they reminisced about the past few months.

“Can you believe it’s been almost four months since we started… all of this?” Y/N asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Minho smirked. “It’s been four months of ‘fake dating’ that turned into real dating, huh?”

Y/N playfully nudged him with her elbow. “You were the one who wanted to keep up the ‘fake dating’ act for the longest time.”

Minho raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I wasn’t the one who couldn’t keep her hands off me. Who could blame me for going along with it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the playful spark in her gaze gave away how much she enjoyed their back-and-forth banter. “You are so full of yourself, Minho.”

“Only when I’m talking about you,” he teased, leaning in just enough to steal a quick kiss on the cheek. “Besides, I think I’ve earned it.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Y/N teased back, giving him a playful shove. “Now, are you ready for this semester?”

Minho grinned, slipping his hand into hers. “Ready as I’ll ever be. With you by my side, I can handle anything KISS throws our way.”

As they entered the classroom, they were greeted by their friends—Kitty, Dae, Q, Yuri, and the rest of the crew. There was an undeniable change in the air. It wasn’t just that Minho and Y/N were dating; it was that they were dating openly, confidently, and without hesitation. They didn’t need to hide anymore. No more awkward silences or secret glances. The friends had all gotten used to the idea, and more importantly, they had embraced it.

“You guys are officially the cutest couple ever,” Kitty said, flashing a teasing smile as she winked at Y/N.

“Seriously,” Dae chimed in, his voice low but playful. “I can’t believe you two managed to make it through all that fake dating nonsense and end up together. That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”

Yuri just shook her head with a fond smile. “Honestly, I thought you’d both be too stubborn to admit it. But here we are.”

Q grinned from his seat. “If you two break up, I swear I’m going to call a drama writer and have you both star in a show about the ultimate love story. It’ll be legendary.”

Minho chuckled, his fingers still intertwined with Y/N’s as he sat beside her. “As long as there are no love triangles involved, I’m in.”

Y/N leaned into him, her gaze shifting to her friends as she spoke. “We’re not going anywhere, you know. We’ve been through a lot together already. If we can survive fake dating, we can handle anything.”

“True,” Yuri said, smiling gently. “You two are solid.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and the group settled into their seats, but the atmosphere felt different. Lighter. There was a sense of comfort, of peace that came with knowing that Minho and Y/N were no longer pretending. They were real.

As the class progressed, Minho and Y/N exchanged small glances and secret smiles, their hearts light with the knowledge that they had something special. They weren’t just a couple of friends anymore, not pretending for the sake of others. They were them—two people who had found each other through chaos and confusion, and now they were navigating this thing called life together.

When the class ended, Minho and Y/N walked out together, hand in hand, ready for the semester ahead. There was so much to look forward to—more memories to make, more moments to share, and more love to give.

And as they stepped into the busy halls of KISS, they knew that whatever happened, they would face it together. Because the hardest part was already behind them.

- Minho (Xo Minho) X Kitty

;༊ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

;༊ Warnings : None

;༊ WC : 1,253

;༊ Previous Chapters : 12 & 13

;༊ A/N : Chapter 14 is the last chapter but, I’m thinking of writing three extra cute chapters. What do you guys think? Hope you guys enjoy!!

꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱

Chapter 14: The End of the Beginning

The sun was setting over KISS as the final bell of the semester rang, signaling the start of winter break. Students poured out of their classrooms, ready to head home or off to their various holiday plans. The campus was alive with chatter and excitement, but amidst the chaos, Minho and Y/N found themselves in a little corner of the school grounds—just the two of them, away from the noise. It felt like the perfect ending to a chapter in their lives. A chapter that had been filled with moments of uncertainty, laughter, and most importantly, a whole lot of growth.

“Are you sure you’re ready for the holidays?” Minho asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned against a tree, watching Y/N who was furiously scribbling something in her notebook. She looked up at him, her expression half-exasperated, half-amused.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, rolling her eyes but her smile giving her away. “I’m ready to eat my weight in food, sleep for at least twelve hours a day, and watch way too many K-dramas.”

Minho chuckled, taking a step closer. “Sounds like a perfect break. No exams or last-minute assignments?”

“Don’t jinx it,” Y/N said, narrowing her eyes at him but smiling all the same. “I swear, if I get one more surprise assignment after all this… I’m going to lose it.”

“Well, just know I’m here to keep you company when you inevitably procrastinate,” Minho teased, his voice dripping with affection. He reached over to gently tug at her hair, a playful glint in his eyes.

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, but there was a warmth in her chest that she couldn’t deny. It had been a whirlwind since they’d admitted they were no longer just playing the “fake dating” game. Things had shifted so much between them, and now, a few weeks into their real relationship, it felt like they were in a place where everything was falling into place. They had figured out how to balance school, their social lives, and, well, them.

“Speaking of which,” Minho continued, “I know you’re excited for the holidays, but… I was thinking… Do you want to spend New Year’s Eve with me?”

Y/N blinked, startled by the question. “New Year’s Eve? With you? What do you have in mind?”