#coogie

Giriboy (Siyoung) x Reader

Coogie (Jeonghun) x Reader

Genre: Still angst😉

Word count: 419

The studio felt different without you in it.

Not wrong. Just… quieter. Colder, maybe.

Giriboy stared at the monitor, the beat looping without conviction. He’d adjusted the high-end twice already, but nothing sounded right.

He reached instinctively to ask — But you weren’t there.

Right. You were in Studio C with Coogie. Again.

Coogie had been practically vibrating with excitement all week. New album. New sound. New everything. And of course, he wanted you on it.

“Only you get what I’m hearing in my head, Noona,” he’d said, dragging you in that first day, beaming. “I need your ears. Your soul.”

You’d laughed and agreed, flattered and curious.

He hadn’t let go since.

You’d been by his side nearly every day — fine-tuning arrangements, syncing melodies, even staying late to tweak transitions he got stuck on. You didn’t complain. You liked the work. Liked helping people build something that mattered.

And Giriboy…?

Well. He was used to you being around. That’s all. Habit.

That’s what he told himself.

On day four, he passed you in the hallway — headphones slung around your neck, laughing at something Coogie had just whispered. You looked up and smiled at him.

“Hey,” you said, soft.

He nodded, but didn’t stop walking. Didn’t know what to say.

The sound of your voice used to settle him. Now it just left an echo.

Back in his studio, he sat down too hard and opened a project at random. The chords clashed. He didn’t care.

You usually noticed that kind of thing.

You usually sat there, in the corner with your laptop, half-listening but fully present. You’d speak up only when it mattered. You always knew exactly when it mattered.

Now he caught himself turning toward the couch to look for you — and finding it empty.

God, this was stupid. He wasn’t a child. He didn’t need you here.

It was just routine. That was all. That’s why it felt weird.

That’s why his temper had been short lately. That’s why nothing sounded right. That’s why he kept checking the clock like something was supposed to happen.

In Studio C, Coogie nudged your arm with his elbow. “You’re zoning out.”

You blinked. “Sorry.”

“Tired?”

“A little. Just thinking.”

“About hyung?”

You look at him, caught off guard.

He shrugged. “He keeps passing by. Like he’s not checking in, but… he’s definitely checking in.”

You let out a soft breath. “I didn’t notice.”

Giriboy (Siyoung) x Reader

Coogie (Jeonghun) x Reader

Genre: Still angst😉 Word count: 457

The first time you met Coogie, he looked like he belonged in a different kind of studio — younger, louder, all restless limbs and confident eyes.

He showed up an hour late to a shared session, hoodie half-on, half-off, with a smirk that said he knew exactly how good he was. You’d seen the type before. You didn’t expect him to remember your name, let alone take you seriously.

But then he sat down, heard the track you’d been working on, and said, “Yo, who made this?”

You looked up. “I did.”

“Noona made this?” he blinked, surprised — and then grinned. “Okay, respect.”

It was the first time he called you that — Noona. You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to laugh or correct him.

“I’m not that much older.”

“Still older,” he shot back, teasing. “Rules are rules.”

You rolled your eyes. But there was something about the way he said it — casual, mischievous — that made the corner of your mouth twitch.

From that moment on, it stuck.

Every time he walked in: “Noona~! Save me a seat.” Every time you tweaked his verse without asking: “Yah, Noona! My pride!” Every time he passed you water or coffee without a word: “Take it, Noona. Don’t argue.”

You didn’t think much of it. Not really. He called everyone something. It was part of his vibe — light, harmless, affectionate.

And you never assumed affection was anything more than that. Not anymore.

But something shifted over time.

You noticed it in the little things — how he’d sit closer than he needed to, how his eyes lingered on you when you were explaining a sound, how he stopped joking when you looked tired.

Once, after a late-night session, you let out a breath and whispered, “I don’t know if this one’s gonna work.”

He didn’t tease you. Didn’t make a joke.

Instead, he said, “If you say it’s worth saving, then it is.”

Quiet. Steady. No smile.

You didn’t say anything. Just looked at him, unsure if you’d imagined the weight behind his words.

He looked away first.

He didn’t mean to fall for you.

At first, it was just fun — the way you rolled your eyes when he was too loud, the way you called him out when he was off-beat. He thought you were cute, in a cool older-girl kind of way. Someone untouchable. Someone safe to joke with.

But the more time he spent near you, the more that joke stopped being funny.

He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t even tell himself, not really. But every time you smiled at him like he was just being silly — like you couldn’t possibly see him that way — something in his chest pulled tight.

It was just a nickname.

Until it wasn’t.

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