skye ⭑

the rehearsal studio mirrors were always too loud when the room went quiet, reflecting every sharp angle of your body and the slight, exhausted tremble in your knees, but nothing felt as loud as the notification that popped up on your phone screen. you had been leaning against the ballet barre, catching your breath while the choreographer adjusted the speaker volume, when you pulled your phone out of your cargo pants. 

the weverse notification was right there at the top of your screen. a fan had commented on a photo of james from his recent weverse update, ‘his face card never declines’. a standard, sweet compliment meant to stay buried in the endless scroll of idol praise. but it was james’ account handle right beneath it that made your heart drop into your stomach.

‘never thought i had one.’

the words looked so tiny on the screen, so casual, but you knew him well enough to read the staggering weight of defeat behind them. you knew about the tabs he’d been opening late at night when he thought juhoon and you were asleep in your shared room, the way his thumb would relentlessly scroll through search results for ‘cortis visual hole’ and the brutal forums where strangers dissected his features with clinical cruelty.

“hey,” you said, your voice cutting through the heavy studio air as you looked over at the choreographer, already grabbing your gym bag from the floor. “i have to go. something came up at the dorm. i’ll be here two hours early tomorrow to make up for the rest of this run-through, i promise. i’m so sorry!—”you didn’t even wait for a proper response, just throwing a polite, rushed bow before slipping out the heavy acoustic doors, your sneakers squeaking against the hallway floor.

the taxi ride back was a blur of neon city lights and the sharp ache of anxiety building in your chest. you kept staring out the window, chewing on the inside of your cheek, thinking about how unfair it was that the oldest member of cortis—the boy who held the group together with his quiet kindness and undeniable talent—was currently drowning in self-doubt all alone.

when you finally let yourself into the dorm, the silence hit you first. it wasn’t a peaceful quiet; it felt heavy, stagnant, like the air in a room that hadn’t been lived in for days. you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked down the short hallway toward your shared room, your heart hammering against your ribs.

when you pushed the door open, the sight of him made a sudden, sharp wave of sadness wash over you so intensely it felt physical. james was just sitting on the edge of his unmade mattress, his long legs drawn up slightly, his hands loosely clasped between his knees. the curtains were half-drawn, letting in only a dim, grey slice of late afternoon light that caught the dust motes dancing in the air. he wasn’t crying, he wasn’t on his phone anymore; he was just staring blankly at a spot on the hardwood floor, his shoulders hunched inward as if he were trying to occupy as little space in the universe as possible. he looked so small in his oversized black HYBE hoodie, stripped entirely of the stage presence he usually forced himself to wear like armor.

you didn’t say anything at first. you just quietly dropped your bag by the door and walked over, the floorboards giving a faint, familiar creak beneath your weight. you sat down right next to him on the mattress, the spring shifting beneath you. he didn’t look up immediately, but you saw the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his eyelashes fluttered as he swallowed hard, acknowledging your presence without having the energy to meet your eyes.

“how dare you call yourself not pretty?” your voice broke the silence, soft but laced with a fierce, protective ache that made his shoulders flinch slightly. you reached out, your fingers gently finding his chin and tilting his face toward yours, forcing him to look at you. his eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles under them looking almost like bruises in the dim light, and his lips were dry and bitten raw. “jamie, look at me. please, just look at me. you are quite literally the most beautiful human i’ve ever laid eyes on. you look like a damn angel. how could you reply to a fan like that? do you have any idea what you put me through seeing you say something so heartbreaking while i’m stuck at practice?"

he finally let out a ragged breath, his gaze wavering before he looked down at your hands, his fingers idly tracing the cuff of your sleeve. “you shouldn’t have left practice for me,” he mumbled, his voice thick and scraped raw from hours of silence. “i didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it. it just... it came out before i could think. i just got tired of pretending like i don’t see what everyone else sees. you know what the comments call me. i’m the ‘visual hole’. when we stand in a line for photo walls, i can see the cameras shifting away from me to focus on the others. i see the edit videos where they crop me out. i just look at the mirror sometimes, especially after the stylists finish with me, and i don’t see an idol. yn. i see someone who doesn’t belong in this group. i feel like i’m ruining the image of cortis just by standing there.”

“james, stop saying that, please,” you pleaded, your voice cracking as your own eyes started to fill with tears. “you’re the heart of this group. cortis doesn’t even exist without you. how can you think you’re ruining anything, baby?”

“because it’s all people talk about sometimes,” he whispered, a sharp sob breaking through his words as he finally looked into your eyes, his gaze frantic and shattered. “it’s not just the comments. it’s the way it makes me feel inside. like i’m constantly wearing a mask that doesn’t fit. every time i get on stage, i feel like a fucking fraud, yn. i see the way the light catches the other members, how effortlessly perfect they look, and then i see my own reflection in the monitor and i just want to… disappear. it’s this constant, suffocating weight in my chest that tells me i’m not enough, that i’ll never look good enough, no matter how hard i try or how much weight i lose or how much makeup they put on me. it makes me feel so small, so completely worthless, and it terrifies me that everyone else sees it too… that you can see it too.” he paused. “i look in the mirror and i hate what i see, and then i feel guilty because i’m an idol and i’m supposed to be confident, but i’m just... i’m just breaking down over a stupid screen.”

“it’s not stupid if it’s hurting you this badly,” you said softly, the tears spilling over your cheeks as you leaned in closer, wrapping your arms securely around his neck and pulling his heavy frame against your chest. your own vision blurred completely as you felt him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he completely collapsed into you, his face burying into the crook of your shoulder, his hands gripping the back of your damp practice shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. “but those people online don’t know anything. they don’t see the real you, james. they don’t know the millions of reasons why i love you, or the little things that make you so incredibly special. please listen to me.”

“how can you even look at me like this?” he choked out, his whole body shuddering against yours as a loud, breathless cry escaped his throat. “i’m a mess. i’m sitting here crying over netizen comments while you’re working hard at the studio. i feel so pathetic.”

“you’re not pathetic,” you said fiercely, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face, your thumbs desperately wiping away the thick dampness on his cheeks. “i love you because you are the kindest, most selfless person i have ever met. i love the way your eyes crinkle up into tiny, perfect crescents when you’re genuinely laughing at something stupid, and how your nose does that little twitch whenever you’re about to sneeze. i love the way you always make sure everyone else has eaten and liked their food before you even look at your own plate, and how you stay up late to help the younger members with their dance or vocals even when you’re completely exhausted yourself. i love the quiet, gentle way you speak to me when it’s just the two of us, like i’m the only thing that matters in the entire world. i love how you love people around you. so how can you say you aren’t enough when you’re everything to me?”

“but what about the fans?” he sobbed, his eyes wide and glossy with pain, his lips trembling violently. “what about the people who buy the albums and see me and get disappointed? i want to look perfect for them. i want them to be proud to say i’m in their favorite group.”

“they are proud of you, james. the real fans love you for exactly who you are, and the ones who don’t? they don’t deserve a single second of your thoughts,” you pressed your forehead against his, letting him feel the warmth of your breath, your voice dropping to a fierce, emotional whisper. “and physically? james, you are breathtaking. i love the soft slope of your jawline, and the way your hair falls perfectly across your forehead when you wake up in the morning. i love the tiny mole on your nose that the stylists always try to cover up with concealer, but it’s my absolute favorite thing to kiss. i love the warmth of your hands and the way your lips feel when you smile against mine. you’re not a visual hole, you’re a masterpiece, and i need you to start seeing yourself through my eyes because my eyes only see perfection when they look at you. please, tell me you hear me. tell me you believe me even just a little bit.”

“yn, i swear i want to,” he wept openly now, the walls completely broken down as he let out a raw, painful sound that made your own chest heave with fresh, violent tears. “i want to believe you so badly. it just hurts so much inside. i’m so tired of feeling like this.”

“i know, baby, i know,” you whispered into his hair, your own tears streaming down your face in earnest now, dripping onto his hair and sliding down his neck as you squeezed him as tight as your arms would allow. the room was entirely filled with the sound of your shared crying, the agonising release of all the pain he’d been harboring silently, and the desperate, fiercely protective love you kept pouring into him with every ragged breath you took. you rocked him through the violent tremors of his body, crying just as hard as he was, your hearts beating erratically against each other’s ribs in the dim, grey light. “i’ve got you. i’m right here. we’re going to get through this together, i promise you.”

when the heavy, gasping sobs finally started to slow down, leaving both of you completely spent and trembling, you pulled back just enough to look at him through your swollen, wet eyes. you used the pads of your thumbs to tenderly wipe away the remaining tears, your hands shaking slightly from the emotional toll. his nose was bright red, his eyes puffy and glassy, but to you, he had never looked more precious, more real, or more stunningly beautiful.

“look at me, jamie,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his cheek as you kissed a lingering tear away. “are you still in there? still listening to my voice?”

“yeah,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he tried to stabilise his breathing. “i’m listening.”

“good,” you said softly, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead, then to the bridge of his nose, and finally against his lips—a slow, reassuring pressure that tasted heavily of salt and shared sorrow, but carried all the quiet, unbreakable devotion you couldn’t put into words. “let’slie down. no more phones, no more comments. just us.”

“okay,” he whispered against your wet lips. you pulled gently at his waist until he complied, letting himself be guided backward onto the tangled sheets. you curled yourself directly into his side, throwing one leg over his thighs and resting your head squarely on his chest, listening to the steady, gradually calming rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his arm wound tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, his fingers still twitching with the residual adrenaline of his tears.

“thank you,” he whispered into the quiet of the bedroom, his voice still incredibly small and raspy from crying, but the sharp, suffocating tension in his frame had finally begun to melt away, leaving him soft, vulnerable, and safe in your arms. “i don’t deserve you. i really don’t.”

“you deserve the whole world,” you corrected him quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his fabric softener and skin as you gripped his hoodie tightly. “and i’m going to spend every single day reminding you until you finally believe it.”

💌 ❤︎ notes ─── ৻ꪆ i didn’t wanna take up space before the fic to yap so i moved the notes part down but what i wanted to say was.. this fic is more than just words to me. there’s been so many instances in my own life where i’ve felt like i was the ugly one of my friend group or not smart enough or not pretty enough and just.. not enough. when i first saw james in august ‘25, i don’t know what it was, but i genuinely felt like i saw pieces of me in him or vice versa. and when he was subtly making self-deprecating comments about himself (but people tried to call it ‘humility’ when it really wasn’t), i think i finally found home in him.

and ik i joke a lot about being a james stan and saying goofy stuff all the time but i wanna admit that he’s just so painfully relatable, to me. yk how that thing where people say “you choose your bias because you see yourself in them”? i think that’s exactly why he’s my bias </3 i try to never bring heavy topics ab myself onto my blog bc most of u follow me for my fics but this one fic has become an exception; im sorry ):

i also think that’s why writing this specific story was so heavy, but so necessary for me. it wasn’t just about building on a supposedly ‘small’ comment he made today; it was about pouring all those late-night thoughts, the suffocating insecurities, and the silent breakdowns into a space where they could finally be held and comforted. seeing someone you look up to battle the exact same quiet demons you do is a strange, comforting kind of ache. it reminds you that you aren’t alone, but it also makes you want to protect them from the very things that hurt you.

when i write scenes of him being held and reminded of his worth, i’m reminding myself of mine too. so i wanted to give him the gentle, unwavering love that we all deserve to receive when we feel entirely invisible.

to anyone who read this and felt a little too close to the words: i hope this fic felt like a soft place to land. thank you for letting me share a piece of my heart with you <3

© hyuneskkami ❦

the rehearsal studio mirrors were always too loud when the room went quiet, reflecting every sharp angle of your body and the slight, exhausted tremble in your knees, but nothing felt as loud as the notification that popped up on your phone screen. you had been leaning against the ballet barre, catching your breath while the choreographer adjusted the speaker volume, when you pulled your phone out of your cargo pants. 

the weverse notification was right there at the top of your screen. a fan had commented on a photo of james from his recent weverse update, ‘his face card never declines’. a standard, sweet compliment meant to stay buried in the endless scroll of idol praise. but it was james’ account handle right beneath it that made your heart drop into your stomach.

‘never thought i had one.’

the words looked so tiny on the screen, so casual, but you knew him well enough to read the staggering weight of defeat behind them. you knew about the tabs he’d been opening late at night when he thought juhoon and you were asleep in your shared room, the way his thumb would relentlessly scroll through search results for ‘cortis visual hole’ and the brutal forums where strangers dissected his features with clinical cruelty.

“hey,” you said, your voice cutting through the heavy studio air as you looked over at the choreographer, already grabbing your gym bag from the floor. “i have to go. something came up at the dorm. i’ll be here two hours early tomorrow to make up for the rest of this run-through, i promise. i’m so sorry!—”you didn’t even wait for a proper response, just throwing a polite, rushed bow before slipping out the heavy acoustic doors, your sneakers squeaking against the hallway floor.

the taxi ride back was a blur of neon city lights and the sharp ache of anxiety building in your chest. you kept staring out the window, chewing on the inside of your cheek, thinking about how unfair it was that the oldest member of cortis—the boy who held the group together with his quiet kindness and undeniable talent—was currently drowning in self-doubt all alone.

when you finally let yourself into the dorm, the silence hit you first. it wasn’t a peaceful quiet; it felt heavy, stagnant, like the air in a room that hadn’t been lived in for days. you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked down the short hallway toward your shared room, your heart hammering against your ribs.

when you pushed the door open, the sight of him made a sudden, sharp wave of sadness wash over you so intensely it felt physical. james was just sitting on the edge of his unmade mattress, his long legs drawn up slightly, his hands loosely clasped between his knees. the curtains were half-drawn, letting in only a dim, grey slice of late afternoon light that caught the dust motes dancing in the air. he wasn’t crying, he wasn’t on his phone anymore; he was just staring blankly at a spot on the hardwood floor, his shoulders hunched inward as if he were trying to occupy as little space in the universe as possible. he looked so small in his oversized black HYBE hoodie, stripped entirely of the stage presence he usually forced himself to wear like armor.

you didn’t say anything at first. you just quietly dropped your bag by the door and walked over, the floorboards giving a faint, familiar creak beneath your weight. you sat down right next to him on the mattress, the spring shifting beneath you. he didn’t look up immediately, but you saw the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his eyelashes fluttered as he swallowed hard, acknowledging your presence without having the energy to meet your eyes.

“how dare you call yourself not pretty?” your voice broke the silence, soft but laced with a fierce, protective ache that made his shoulders flinch slightly. you reached out, your fingers gently finding his chin and tilting his face toward yours, forcing him to look at you. his eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles under them looking almost like bruises in the dim light, and his lips were dry and bitten raw. “jamie, look at me. please, just look at me. you are quite literally the most beautiful human i’ve ever laid eyes on. you look like a damn angel. how could you reply to a fan like that? do you have any idea what you put me through seeing you say something so heartbreaking while i’m stuck at practice?"

he finally let out a ragged breath, his gaze wavering before he looked down at your hands, his fingers idly tracing the cuff of your sleeve. “you shouldn’t have left practice for me,” he mumbled, his voice thick and scraped raw from hours of silence. “i didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it. it just... it came out before i could think. i just got tired of pretending like i don’t see what everyone else sees. you know what the comments call me. i’m the ‘visual hole’. when we stand in a line for photo walls, i can see the cameras shifting away from me to focus on the others. i see the edit videos where they crop me out. i just look at the mirror sometimes, especially after the stylists finish with me, and i don’t see an idol. yn. i see someone who doesn’t belong in this group. i feel like i’m ruining the image of cortis just by standing there.”

“james, stop saying that, please,” you pleaded, your voice cracking as your own eyes started to fill with tears. “you’re the heart of this group. cortis doesn’t even exist without you. how can you think you’re ruining anything, baby?”

“because it’s all people talk about sometimes,” he whispered, a sharp sob breaking through his words as he finally looked into your eyes, his gaze frantic and shattered. “it’s not just the comments. it’s the way it makes me feel inside. like i’m constantly wearing a mask that doesn’t fit. every time i get on stage, i feel like a fucking fraud, yn. i see the way the light catches the other members, how effortlessly perfect they look, and then i see my own reflection in the monitor and i just want to… disappear. it’s this constant, suffocating weight in my chest that tells me i’m not enough, that i’ll never look good enough, no matter how hard i try or how much weight i lose or how much makeup they put on me. it makes me feel so small, so completely worthless, and it terrifies me that everyone else sees it too… that you can see it too.” he paused. “i look in the mirror and i hate what i see, and then i feel guilty because i’m an idol and i’m supposed to be confident, but i’m just... i’m just breaking down over a stupid screen.”

“it’s not stupid if it’s hurting you this badly,” you said softly, the tears spilling over your cheeks as you leaned in closer, wrapping your arms securely around his neck and pulling his heavy frame against your chest. your own vision blurred completely as you felt him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he completely collapsed into you, his face burying into the crook of your shoulder, his hands gripping the back of your damp practice shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. “but those people online don’t know anything. they don’t see the real you, james. they don’t know the millions of reasons why i love you, or the little things that make you so incredibly special. please listen to me.”

“how can you even look at me like this?” he choked out, his whole body shuddering against yours as a loud, breathless cry escaped his throat. “i’m a mess. i’m sitting here crying over netizen comments while you’re working hard at the studio. i feel so pathetic.”

“you’re not pathetic,” you said fiercely, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face, your thumbs desperately wiping away the thick dampness on his cheeks. “i love you because you are the kindest, most selfless person i have ever met. i love the way your eyes crinkle up into tiny, perfect crescents when you’re genuinely laughing at something stupid, and how your nose does that little twitch whenever you’re about to sneeze. i love the way you always make sure everyone else has eaten and liked their food before you even look at your own plate, and how you stay up late to help the younger members with their dance or vocals even when you’re completely exhausted yourself. i love the quiet, gentle way you speak to me when it’s just the two of us, like i’m the only thing that matters in the entire world. i love how you love people around you. so how can you say you aren’t enough when you’re everything to me?”

“but what about the fans?” he sobbed, his eyes wide and glossy with pain, his lips trembling violently. “what about the people who buy the albums and see me and get disappointed? i want to look perfect for them. i want them to be proud to say i’m in their favorite group.”

“they are proud of you, james. the real fans love you for exactly who you are, and the ones who don’t? they don’t deserve a single second of your thoughts,” you pressed your forehead against his, letting him feel the warmth of your breath, your voice dropping to a fierce, emotional whisper. “and physically? james, you are breathtaking. i love the soft slope of your jawline, and the way your hair falls perfectly across your forehead when you wake up in the morning. i love the tiny mole on your nose that the stylists always try to cover up with concealer, but it’s my absolute favorite thing to kiss. i love the warmth of your hands and the way your lips feel when you smile against mine. you’re not a visual hole, you’re a masterpiece, and i need you to start seeing yourself through my eyes because my eyes only see perfection when they look at you. please, tell me you hear me. tell me you believe me even just a little bit.”

“yn, i swear i want to,” he wept openly now, the walls completely broken down as he let out a raw, painful sound that made your own chest heave with fresh, violent tears. “i want to believe you so badly. it just hurts so much inside. i’m so tired of feeling like this.”

“i know, baby, i know,” you whispered into his hair, your own tears streaming down your face in earnest now, dripping onto his hair and sliding down his neck as you squeezed him as tight as your arms would allow. the room was entirely filled with the sound of your shared crying, the agonising release of all the pain he’d been harboring silently, and the desperate, fiercely protective love you kept pouring into him with every ragged breath you took. you rocked him through the violent tremors of his body, crying just as hard as he was, your hearts beating erratically against each other’s ribs in the dim, grey light. “i’ve got you. i’m right here. we’re going to get through this together, i promise you.”

when the heavy, gasping sobs finally started to slow down, leaving both of you completely spent and trembling, you pulled back just enough to look at him through your swollen, wet eyes. you used the pads of your thumbs to tenderly wipe away the remaining tears, your hands shaking slightly from the emotional toll. his nose was bright red, his eyes puffy and glassy, but to you, he had never looked more precious, more real, or more stunningly beautiful.

“look at me, jamie,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his cheek as you kissed a lingering tear away. “are you still in there? still listening to my voice?”

“yeah,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he tried to stabilise his breathing. “i’m listening.”

“good,” you said softly, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead, then to the bridge of his nose, and finally against his lips—a slow, reassuring pressure that tasted heavily of salt and shared sorrow, but carried all the quiet, unbreakable devotion you couldn’t put into words. “let’slie down. no more phones, no more comments. just us.”

“okay,” he whispered against your wet lips. you pulled gently at his waist until he complied, letting himself be guided backward onto the tangled sheets. you curled yourself directly into his side, throwing one leg over his thighs and resting your head squarely on his chest, listening to the steady, gradually calming rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his arm wound tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, his fingers still twitching with the residual adrenaline of his tears.

“thank you,” he whispered into the quiet of the bedroom, his voice still incredibly small and raspy from crying, but the sharp, suffocating tension in his frame had finally begun to melt away, leaving him soft, vulnerable, and safe in your arms. “i don’t deserve you. i really don’t.”

“you deserve the whole world,” you corrected him quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his fabric softener and skin as you gripped his hoodie tightly. “and i’m going to spend every single day reminding you until you finally believe it.”

💌 ❤︎ notes ─── ৻ꪆ i didn’t wanna take up space before the fic to yap so i moved the notes part down but what i wanted to say was.. this fic is more than just words to me. there’s been so many instances in my own life where i’ve felt like i was the ugly one of my friend group or not smart enough or not pretty enough and just.. not enough. when i first saw james in august ‘25, i don’t know what it was, but i genuinely felt like i saw pieces of me in him or vice versa. and when he was subtly making self-deprecating comments about himself (but people tried to call it ‘humility’ when it really wasn’t), i think i finally found home in him.

and ik i joke a lot about being a james stan and saying goofy stuff all the time but i wanna admit that he’s just so painfully relatable, to me. yk how that thing where people say “you choose your bias because you see yourself in them”? i think that’s exactly why he’s my bias </3 i try to never bring heavy topics ab myself onto my blog bc most of u follow me for my fics but this one fic has become an exception; im sorry ):

i also think that’s why writing this specific story was so heavy, but so necessary for me. it wasn’t just about building on a supposedly ‘small’ comment he made today; it was about pouring all those late-night thoughts, the suffocating insecurities, and the silent breakdowns into a space where they could finally be held and comforted. seeing someone you look up to battle the exact same quiet demons you do is a strange, comforting kind of ache. it reminds you that you aren’t alone, but it also makes you want to protect them from the very things that hurt you.

when i write scenes of him being held and reminded of his worth, i’m reminding myself of mine too. so i wanted to give him the gentle, unwavering love that we all deserve to receive when we feel entirely invisible.

to anyone who read this and felt a little too close to the words: i hope this fic felt like a soft place to land. thank you for letting me share a piece of my heart with you <3

© hyuneskkami ❦

the kitchen was quiet, bathed in that warm, sleepy glow of a late sunday afternoon where the hours just sort of bled into each other. you were sitting sideways in one of the dining chairs, your legs hooked over the armrest, completely lost in whatever you were scrolling through on your phone—some fanfiction about keonho and tan lines by one of your favourite tumblr author @cosmiho. 

the only sound was the rhythmic, gentle scrape of a knife against a cutting board across the room. after a few moments, the sound stopped. then came the familiar, soft scuff of socks against the hardwood floor.

before you could even look up, a heavy, comforting weight settled right against your side. keonho didn’t take his own chair; instead, he leaned over the back of yours, his broad chest pressing into your shoulder. he brought the faint, clean scent of his laundry detergent and something sweet with him, instantly making the space feel warmer. he didn’t say anything at first, just rested his chin heavily on your shoulder, watching your phone screen with lazy interest.

you tilted your head, your cheek brushing against his messy dark hair. “what are you doing, keon?”

“waiting for you to look at me, baby,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a low, rumbling vibration that sent a tiny shiver down your spine. he shifted slightly, pulling back just enough so you were forced to turn your head and face him.

in his hand, he held a small, perfectly cut piece of strawberry, glistening with a bit of sugar. he was looking at you with that soft, intensely focused expression he only ever saved for you, a tiny, fond smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“open your mouth, come on,” he said softly, nudging the strawberry a little closer to your face. “i picked the sweetest one for you.”

you let out a soft huff, a helpless smile breaking across your face. “i can feed myself, you know.”

“where’s the romance in that?” he teased, his dark eyes crinkling beautifully at the corners. he moved the fruit a millimeter closer, his thumb lightly brushing against your lower lip to coax you. “come on. say aah.” 

amused by how stubborn he was being, you gave in. you let your phone drop onto your lap, leaning forward slightly, and parted your lips to take the bite.

but the exact millisecond your eyes fluttered shut, keonho’s hand abruptly dropped.

the strawberry was completely forgotten, abandoned on the plate below. in a split second, his hand moved to cup your jaw, his warm thumb catching the corner of your mouth. he tilted your face up, leaning over the chair completely, and swooped in to steal your breath away.

his lips caught yours with a soft, confident pressure. it wasn’t a rushed kiss; it was slow, deep, and thoroughly affectionate, full of the easy, established comfort of a relationship where you already knew each other’s rhythms by heart. you could feel him smiling against your mouth, a quiet laugh vibrating through him as your hands instinctively flew up to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer out of pure surprise. he tasted faintly of fruit, and his lips were incredibly soft as he lingered, deepening the kiss just enough to make your head spin before gently pulling back.

when he finally detached his lips from yours, he didn’t go far at all. he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. his thumb was still gently stroking your cheek, and the look in his eyes was so incredibly soft it made your chest ache.

“sweeter than strawberries, right?” he whispered, his voice entirely devoid of its usual teasing edge, replaced by pure, unadulterated fondness.

you blinked up at him, your cheeks burning a bright, dusty pink, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. you swatted weakly at his chest. “you are literally the worst, keon. that’s cheating.”

he just chuckled, a bright, boyish sound that echoed in the quiet kitchen. he ducked down again, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your burning cheek, then another one to the tip of your nose, completely unbothered by your complaints.

“it’s not cheating if it works,” he hummed, finally picking up the forgotten strawberry and popping it into his own mouth.

he managed to squeeze himself into the small chair right next to you, his arm slung over your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side like it was the only place you were supposed to be. he took your hand in his, playing with your fingers, tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb, completely content.

“you’re still staring,” you murmured, looking up from his hands to find his eyes fixed entirely on your face.

keonho didn’t even blink. a soft, breathless smile tugged at his lips. “can’t help it. you look really pretty right now. especially with your hair all messy like that.”

“it’s messy because a certain someone kept pulling me closer,” you huffed, though you couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in your chest.

“yeah? well, that someone has excellent taste,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low, affectionate hum. he leaned down, resting his cheek against the top of your head for a second before shifting so his face was level with yours again. his thumb softly brushes over your cheekbone. “seriously, though. i was thinking about it while i was cutting the fruit earlier.”

“thinking about what?”

“just... how lucky i am,” he said simply. the teasing edge completely faded from his voice, replaced by that quiet, intense sincerity that always caught you off guard. he looked at you like you were the only person in the entire world. “i was just looking at you sitting there, and i realized i don’t ever want to be anywhere else. just here. with you, baby. doing absolutely nothing.”

your heart did a familiar, violent flip in your chest. “keon… i was literally reading x reader fanfictions about you…”

“you’re giving me more reasons to love you,” he whispered, slightly laughing, leaning in a little closer until your noses brushed. his eyes dipped to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto yours. “seriously though… you have this way of making everything feel okay—even a boring sunday. i think i’m just completely ruined for anyone else.”

you let out a soft, helpless laugh, burying your face in his chest for a second to hide your massive smile. you could hear the steady, rapid thumping of his heartbeat beneath his shirt—proving that he wasn’t nearly as cool and collected as he pretends to be.

“you’re smooth,” you mumbled against his shirt.

his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you even closer, burying his face in your neck. “not smooth. just incredibly, ridiculously in love with you. get used to it.” he shifted slightly, shaking with that low, warm laugh as he listened to you mumble against his shirt. before you could even raise your head to tease him back, he was moving again. “let me show you smooth,” he murmured, his tone dropping into that playful, completely smitten cadence.

he started with your jawline, pressing a row of tiny, feather-light kisses right along the edge of it. the sudden warmth of his lips against your skin made you giggle, a tiny, involuntary bubble of laughter escaping your throat.

“stop, it tickles,” you complained, though your hands were already moving up to bunch into the soft fabric of his hoodie, holding him close instead of pushing him away.

he didn’t listen at all. if anything, your reaction only encouraged him. he moved up to your cheek, leaving three quick, loud kisses there that made you wrinkle your nose and giggle properly, the sound bright and clear in the quiet kitchen.

“can’t stop… you’re just so kissable,” he hummed against your skin, his lips moving against your cheek as he spoke. “i have too much love to give. it’s a serious problem,” he nodded while talking.  he peppered you with kisses—your temples, your eyebrow, and then moved down to the corner of your eye, his eyelashes brushing against your skin like butterfly wings. you were laughing openly now, your shoulders shaking, your entire body warm and relaxed against his. you tried to duck your head away, burying your face toward his shoulder to hide, but he just followed you down, his hand sliding up to the back of your head to gently guide you back up.

“look at me,” he whispered, a massive, dimpled grin stretching across his face when you finally peeked up at him through your lashes.

he pressed one last, lingering kiss to the center of your forehead, then another right on the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t help it anymore. the sheer, dizzying affection pooling in your chest just overflowed.

you leaned up slightly, catching him by surprise as you pressed a soft, sweet kiss right to his cheek. then another one to the corner of his mouth.

his breath hitched, his eyes widening just a fraction before melting entirely. the triumphant, teasing smirk he usually wore completely vanished, replaced by a look of pure, helpless adoration.

“two can play at that game, baby,” you whispered against his lips, smiling when you felt his arms tighten around your waist like a vice, pulling you so close there was absolutely no space left between you.

“yeah?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, completely breathless as he leaned his forehead against yours. “prove it.”

and you did, leaning in to kiss him properly this time, your lips slotting together perfectly while the forgotten plate of fruit sat on the counter, completely abandoned for the rest of the afternoon.

the kiss stretched out, long and entirely unhurried, until you were both breathless and smiling so hard against each other’s lips that it became impossible to keep going. keonho let out a soft, contented sigh, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist like a human blanket. you could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, stabilising after the flurry of kisses.

“we are never leaving this chair,” he mumbled against your skin, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down your arms. “the rest of the world is cancelled today.”

“keon, my legs are going to fall asleep,” you laughed, though you didn’t make a single move to untangle yourself from him. instead, your fingers found their way into the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck, gently playing with the stray locks.

“then they fall asleep. a worthy sacrifice, if i say so myself,” he retorted, his voice muffled by your shoulder. he shifted slightly, managing to wiggle even deeper into the small space of the dining chair until you were practically sitting in his lap. he reached down and pulled your legs over his own, rubbing his hands up and down your calves to keep them warm. “there. solved. they’ll wake up soon.”

you shook your head at his ridiculousness, resting your cheek against the top of his head. the kitchen was growing slightly darker as the sun began its slow descent, throwing long, amber shadows across the hardwood floor. the absolute stillness of the house made the moment feel incredibly private, like you were tucked away in a little pocket universe where nothing bad could ever touch you.

after a few minutes of quiet, he tilted his head up, his dark eyes sparkling with a new, playful idea. “hey.”

“hm?”

“look at me.”

when you looked down at him, he suddenly puffed out his cheeks, widening his eyes in a goofy, exaggerated pout that looked completely ridiculous on his handsome face. you tried to keep a straight face, you really did, but a loud snort escaped you, followed by a wave of genuine giggles.

“what are you doing?” you laughed, poking one of his puffed-out cheeks until the air deflated with a soft popping sound.

“i was testing a theory,” he said confidently, his face instantly melting into a bright, dimpled grin that reached his eyes. “and my theory was correct. you look even prettier when you laugh.”

“you are such a sap today,” you murmured, your heart doing that familiar, melt-into-a-puddle thing. you reached out, using your thumbs to gently trace the shape of his eyebrows, then the bridge of his nose, and finally the soft curve of his lips. he stayed completely still for you, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch with absolute docility, letting you map out his face as if you hadn’t seen it a thousand times before.

when he opened his eyes again, the playfulness was gone, replaced by that deep, heavy warmth that always made you feel completely safe. he caught your hand, kissing the center of your palm, then each of your knuckles one by one.

“i can be a sap for the rest of our lives,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. “i think i’d be really good at it.”

you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle, unhurried kiss to his forehead. “yeah, you’re already a professional at the ripe age of seventeen.”

he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound against your chest. he pulled you back down against him, resting his chin on your head as the two of you resumed your quiet watch over the empty kitchen. your fingers stayed intertwined, moving lazily together in the fading sunday light, completely content to let the rest of the evening slip away unnoticed.

© hyuneskkami ❦

the kitchen was quiet, bathed in that warm, sleepy glow of a late sunday afternoon where the hours just sort of bled into each other. you were sitting sideways in one of the dining chairs, your legs hooked over the armrest, completely lost in whatever you were scrolling through on your phone—some fanfiction about keonho and tan lines by one of your favourite tumblr author @cosmiho. 

the only sound was the rhythmic, gentle scrape of a knife against a cutting board across the room. after a few moments, the sound stopped. then came the familiar, soft scuff of socks against the hardwood floor.

before you could even look up, a heavy, comforting weight settled right against your side. keonho didn’t take his own chair; instead, he leaned over the back of yours, his broad chest pressing into your shoulder. he brought the faint, clean scent of his laundry detergent and something sweet with him, instantly making the space feel warmer. he didn’t say anything at first, just rested his chin heavily on your shoulder, watching your phone screen with lazy interest.

you tilted your head, your cheek brushing against his messy dark hair. “what are you doing, keon?”

“waiting for you to look at me, baby,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a low, rumbling vibration that sent a tiny shiver down your spine. he shifted slightly, pulling back just enough so you were forced to turn your head and face him.

in his hand, he held a small, perfectly cut piece of strawberry, glistening with a bit of sugar. he was looking at you with that soft, intensely focused expression he only ever saved for you, a tiny, fond smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“open your mouth, come on,” he said softly, nudging the strawberry a little closer to your face. “i picked the sweetest one for you.”

you let out a soft huff, a helpless smile breaking across your face. “i can feed myself, you know.”

“where’s the romance in that?” he teased, his dark eyes crinkling beautifully at the corners. he moved the fruit a millimeter closer, his thumb lightly brushing against your lower lip to coax you. “come on. say aah.” 

amused by how stubborn he was being, you gave in. you let your phone drop onto your lap, leaning forward slightly, and parted your lips to take the bite.

but the exact millisecond your eyes fluttered shut, keonho’s hand abruptly dropped.

the strawberry was completely forgotten, abandoned on the plate below. in a split second, his hand moved to cup your jaw, his warm thumb catching the corner of your mouth. he tilted your face up, leaning over the chair completely, and swooped in to steal your breath away.

his lips caught yours with a soft, confident pressure. it wasn’t a rushed kiss; it was slow, deep, and thoroughly affectionate, full of the easy, established comfort of a relationship where you already knew each other’s rhythms by heart. you could feel him smiling against your mouth, a quiet laugh vibrating through him as your hands instinctively flew up to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer out of pure surprise. he tasted faintly of fruit, and his lips were incredibly soft as he lingered, deepening the kiss just enough to make your head spin before gently pulling back.

when he finally detached his lips from yours, he didn’t go far at all. he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. his thumb was still gently stroking your cheek, and the look in his eyes was so incredibly soft it made your chest ache.

“sweeter than strawberries, right?” he whispered, his voice entirely devoid of its usual teasing edge, replaced by pure, unadulterated fondness.

you blinked up at him, your cheeks burning a bright, dusty pink, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. you swatted weakly at his chest. “you are literally the worst, keon. that’s cheating.”

he just chuckled, a bright, boyish sound that echoed in the quiet kitchen. he ducked down again, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your burning cheek, then another one to the tip of your nose, completely unbothered by your complaints.

“it’s not cheating if it works,” he hummed, finally picking up the forgotten strawberry and popping it into his own mouth.

he managed to squeeze himself into the small chair right next to you, his arm slung over your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side like it was the only place you were supposed to be. he took your hand in his, playing with your fingers, tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb, completely content.

“you’re still staring,” you murmured, looking up from his hands to find his eyes fixed entirely on your face.

keonho didn’t even blink. a soft, breathless smile tugged at his lips. “can’t help it. you look really pretty right now. especially with your hair all messy like that.”

“it’s messy because a certain someone kept pulling me closer,” you huffed, though you couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in your chest.

“yeah? well, that someone has excellent taste,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low, affectionate hum. he leaned down, resting his cheek against the top of your head for a second before shifting so his face was level with yours again. his thumb softly brushes over your cheekbone. “seriously, though. i was thinking about it while i was cutting the fruit earlier.”

“thinking about what?”

“just... how lucky i am,” he said simply. the teasing edge completely faded from his voice, replaced by that quiet, intense sincerity that always caught you off guard. he looked at you like you were the only person in the entire world. “i was just looking at you sitting there, and i realized i don’t ever want to be anywhere else. just here. with you, baby. doing absolutely nothing.”

your heart did a familiar, violent flip in your chest. “keon… i was literally reading x reader fanfictions about you…”

“you’re giving me more reasons to love you,” he whispered, slightly laughing, leaning in a little closer until your noses brushed. his eyes dipped to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto yours. “seriously though… you have this way of making everything feel okay—even a boring sunday. i think i’m just completely ruined for anyone else.”

you let out a soft, helpless laugh, burying your face in his chest for a second to hide your massive smile. you could hear the steady, rapid thumping of his heartbeat beneath his shirt—proving that he wasn’t nearly as cool and collected as he pretends to be.

“you’re smooth,” you mumbled against his shirt.

his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you even closer, burying his face in your neck. “not smooth. just incredibly, ridiculously in love with you. get used to it.” he shifted slightly, shaking with that low, warm laugh as he listened to you mumble against his shirt. before you could even raise your head to tease him back, he was moving again. “let me show you smooth,” he murmured, his tone dropping into that playful, completely smitten cadence.

he started with your jawline, pressing a row of tiny, feather-light kisses right along the edge of it. the sudden warmth of his lips against your skin made you giggle, a tiny, involuntary bubble of laughter escaping your throat.

“stop, it tickles,” you complained, though your hands were already moving up to bunch into the soft fabric of his hoodie, holding him close instead of pushing him away.

he didn’t listen at all. if anything, your reaction only encouraged him. he moved up to your cheek, leaving three quick, loud kisses there that made you wrinkle your nose and giggle properly, the sound bright and clear in the quiet kitchen.

“can’t stop… you’re just so kissable,” he hummed against your skin, his lips moving against your cheek as he spoke. “i have too much love to give. it’s a serious problem,” he nodded while talking.  he peppered you with kisses—your temples, your eyebrow, and then moved down to the corner of your eye, his eyelashes brushing against your skin like butterfly wings. you were laughing openly now, your shoulders shaking, your entire body warm and relaxed against his. you tried to duck your head away, burying your face toward his shoulder to hide, but he just followed you down, his hand sliding up to the back of your head to gently guide you back up.

“look at me,” he whispered, a massive, dimpled grin stretching across his face when you finally peeked up at him through your lashes.

he pressed one last, lingering kiss to the center of your forehead, then another right on the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t help it anymore. the sheer, dizzying affection pooling in your chest just overflowed.

you leaned up slightly, catching him by surprise as you pressed a soft, sweet kiss right to his cheek. then another one to the corner of his mouth.

his breath hitched, his eyes widening just a fraction before melting entirely. the triumphant, teasing smirk he usually wore completely vanished, replaced by a look of pure, helpless adoration.

“two can play at that game, baby,” you whispered against his lips, smiling when you felt his arms tighten around your waist like a vice, pulling you so close there was absolutely no space left between you.

“yeah?” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, completely breathless as he leaned his forehead against yours. “prove it.”

and you did, leaning in to kiss him properly this time, your lips slotting together perfectly while the forgotten plate of fruit sat on the counter, completely abandoned for the rest of the afternoon.

the kiss stretched out, long and entirely unhurried, until you were both breathless and smiling so hard against each other’s lips that it became impossible to keep going. keonho let out a soft, contented sigh, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist like a human blanket. you could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, stabilising after the flurry of kisses.

“we are never leaving this chair,” he mumbled against your skin, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down your arms. “the rest of the world is cancelled today.”

“keon, my legs are going to fall asleep,” you laughed, though you didn’t make a single move to untangle yourself from him. instead, your fingers found their way into the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck, gently playing with the stray locks.

“then they fall asleep. a worthy sacrifice, if i say so myself,” he retorted, his voice muffled by your shoulder. he shifted slightly, managing to wiggle even deeper into the small space of the dining chair until you were practically sitting in his lap. he reached down and pulled your legs over his own, rubbing his hands up and down your calves to keep them warm. “there. solved. they’ll wake up soon.”

you shook your head at his ridiculousness, resting your cheek against the top of his head. the kitchen was growing slightly darker as the sun began its slow descent, throwing long, amber shadows across the hardwood floor. the absolute stillness of the house made the moment feel incredibly private, like you were tucked away in a little pocket universe where nothing bad could ever touch you.

after a few minutes of quiet, he tilted his head up, his dark eyes sparkling with a new, playful idea. “hey.”

“hm?”

“look at me.”

when you looked down at him, he suddenly puffed out his cheeks, widening his eyes in a goofy, exaggerated pout that looked completely ridiculous on his handsome face. you tried to keep a straight face, you really did, but a loud snort escaped you, followed by a wave of genuine giggles.

“what are you doing?” you laughed, poking one of his puffed-out cheeks until the air deflated with a soft popping sound.

“i was testing a theory,” he said confidently, his face instantly melting into a bright, dimpled grin that reached his eyes. “and my theory was correct. you look even prettier when you laugh.”

“you are such a sap today,” you murmured, your heart doing that familiar, melt-into-a-puddle thing. you reached out, using your thumbs to gently trace the shape of his eyebrows, then the bridge of his nose, and finally the soft curve of his lips. he stayed completely still for you, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch with absolute docility, letting you map out his face as if you hadn’t seen it a thousand times before.

when he opened his eyes again, the playfulness was gone, replaced by that deep, heavy warmth that always made you feel completely safe. he caught your hand, kissing the center of your palm, then each of your knuckles one by one.

“i can be a sap for the rest of our lives,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. “i think i’d be really good at it.”

you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle, unhurried kiss to his forehead. “yeah, you’re already a professional at the ripe age of seventeen.”

he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound against your chest. he pulled you back down against him, resting his chin on your head as the two of you resumed your quiet watch over the empty kitchen. your fingers stayed intertwined, moving lazily together in the fading sunday light, completely content to let the rest of the evening slip away unnoticed.

© hyuneskkami ❦