#martinxreader

DANCE

Martin secretly wants to dance around you - he really does - but the second you're actually there, he suddenly feels like there's way more pressure.

He'll hover near you during practice, doing tiny little shoulder moves or goofy steps, testing the waters without fully committing.

Part of him thinks it'd be fun to dance with you... but the other part panics and decides he'd rather die than accidentally mess up in front of you.

So he settles for dancing near you - close enough to make you laugh, but not close enough to risk tripping over his own feet.

ELASTIC

Martin is fairly likely to shoot a rubber band at you. Especially when he is bored and wants your attention or when he is feeling particularly bold.

Like some teen boi trying to get the girls attention in one of those dramas.

FRAGILE

Martin handles sensitive things pretty normally, but he doesn't open up completely with just anyone - especially not the guys.

He tries to keep a tough, loud exterior, acting like nothing ever gets to him.

But if he ever had to be fragile with someone, it'd be you.

On the rare days he's really down and the others aren't around, you might catch him quietly wiping tears from his eyes.

And if you hugged him in that moment, he'd finally let himself fall apart - because with you, he actually feels safe.

GIFT

Martin is absolutely the type to be out somewhere and suddenly spot a tiny keychain, charm, or bracelet that reminds him of you - and buy it instantly.

He'll ride the elevator back up to the dorms smiling to himself... right until Keonho starts teasing him and Juhoon snickers in the corner.

He'll groan, shove them away, and act all embarrassed - but the second he gives it to you and sees how happy you are, he forgets all about them.

And you'd replace your expensive merch keychain with his little convenience‑store gift without hesitation, because it means more than anything money could buy.

HUG

Martin is definitely a back hugger. When you are cold, or he again if you haven't been giving him attention,

OR if you've been giving all your attention to Keonho, he will try to steal your affection back with a back hug.

ICE CREAM

You don't know it, but under your contact on Martin's phone... he literally has everything written down to remember about you. Your favorite Ice cream being one of them.

He uses the time on his lunch break while filming in LA to run to an ice cream shop and get two cones (one being mint of course) and then returning triumphant to present you the delicious cold treat. And the smile you give him - makes skipping lunch so worth it.

JINX

If you said somthing at the same time. Martin would gasp and then point at you dramatically.

"You gotta buy me a coke now!"

But when you got to the vending machine he would push you out of the way with his hip and put in his cash. Handing you your favorite soda instead, with a smile.

LISTEN

Whenever you start talking, Martin takes his headphones off completely - not just one ear, the whole thing - and turns his full attention to you.

He listens with that soft, meaningful expression he only uses when he actually cares about what someone is saying.

And he values your opinions more than he'll ever admit... especially your awful jokes, which he pretends to judge but secretly loves.

MESSY

If Martin ever had to wake up early for a meeting, he'd show up completely thrown together - hair a mess, hoodie half‑zipped - and immediately feel embarrassed about it.

He'd worry you'd never take him seriously again, mumbling an apology for "looking like a disaster."

But when you just laugh and tell him he could pull off any look, he'd blink, say a quiet "Okay... thanks," and try not to smile too hard.

And later, while he rushes to actually get ready for the day, he'd be grinning to himself the whole time.

NOSTALGIA

You're both sitting in the car, waiting to drive to an interview, when Martin suddenly scrolls through his phone and gasps.

"Oh my gosh, I remember this song!" he says, already hitting play.

You spin around in your seat. "That was literally my favorite song!"

And without even thinking, the two of you start singing it - loudly, horribly, and completely off‑key - windows shaking, harmonies illegal, vibes immaculate.

By the time the manager knocks on the window to tell you it's time to go, you're both breathless from laughing more than singing.

OBSERVE

Martin notices things about you without even trying - the tiny happy dance you do when you get your favorite food, or the little smile you can't hide when something goes right.

But he also sees the moments when you're overwhelmed, when your eyes look shiny and you're holding yourself together by a thread.

He'll go to you immediately, wrap you in a tight hug, and stay there until your breathing evens out.

And later, without making a big deal of it, he'll quietly tell the manager you've been working a lot and ask if you can take your break early - because he always pays attention.

PROTECT

If you and Martin were walking to your favorite snack shop and three guys were standing outside staring at you, whispering and laughing, he'd notice instantly.

Without saying a word, he'd reach for your hand and hold it tight, stepping closer to you as he straightened up to his full height.

Then he'd stand right next to them - tall, serious, and glaring just enough to make his point - until the guys quietly walked away.

And once they were gone, he'd look down at you like nothing happened, still holding your hand as if it belonged there.

QUIET

They were all getting ready for a special awards ceremony, fixing their suits and straightening ties while you followed behind as staff for the event.

But when you stepped out in a classy, elegant dress that suited you perfectly, Martin went completely quiet.

In the car, he had to sit next to you, hands folded, staring straight ahead like he forgot how to function.

The whole drive, he didn't say a word - until he finally glanced over and murmured, barely above a whisper, "You look nice."

And then he went silent again, ears pink, pretending he wasn't thinking about it the entire ride.

REST

Martin will push through exhaustion without complaining, working long past the point he should've stopped.

But during break, if he sees you on the lounge couch, he'll wander over and quietly flop down beside you - his head turned toward you, the rest of his body taking up the entire couch.

He falls asleep instantly, like just being near you finally lets him relax.

And you gently pat his head, watching his breathing slow, knowing he only ever rests this easily around you.

SPOON

Obviously a big spoon... or I guess a tall spoon. Paired with being a back hugger it just makes sense that he would pull you agaisnt his chest to be the big (tall) spoon he is.

But I guess if he really wanted to he would curl up and try to be a small spoon.

TUCK

If Martin ever saw you relaxing in a chair or curled up on a couch, he'd quietly slip off his jacket without saying anything.

He'd drape it over you gently, tucking it around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And before you could look up or thank him, he'd already be sneaking away - pretending he didn't just do something incredibly sweet.

UNDO

Whenever he sees you smile or laugh really hard at something, Martin can't help but smile too - even if he tries to hide it.

He'll look away fast, pretending he's not blushing, but the pink in his cheeks always gives him away.

And when you're really focused on something - brows furrowed, lips pressed together, completely in your zone - he thinks it's the cutest thing in the world.

It quietly undoes him every single time.

VIEW

Sometimes when you walk by, Martin gets completely caught off guard - by your outfit, your hair, or the fact that he maybe... possibly... but definitely not likely thinks you're cute.

He'll stare for half a second too long before snapping out of it, looking away fast or pretending he was zoning out the whole time.

And if you catch him?

He'll act like he didn't see anything at all - even though his ears are already turning red.

WHISPER

From the back seat of the car, Martin leans forward suddenly, getting way too close just to whisper a joke in your ear.

He's grinning, waiting for you to laugh - completely unaware of how red your face is getting.

He pulls back casually, proud of himself, while you're still sitting there trying to breathe normally... and he doesn't notice a thing.

X‑RAY

Martin can always read your mind - especially when you're about to complain about something.

If you're too hot, too cold, too tired, or two seconds away from saying "ugh," he somehow senses it first.

He'll finish your sentence before you even start it, then immediately fix the problem like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Half the time you don't even get the chance to speak - he's already handing you a blanket, opening a window, or adjusting the AC with a quiet, knowing look.

YAWN

Martin yawns all the time - he's tired literally 24/7.

And he's used to the guys yawning in his face, loudly, dramatically, like they're trying to summon a demon. It's annoying.

But you?

The way you yawn is different.

You cover your mouth a little, your eyes get heavy for a second, and your whole expression softens - and he ends up staring a little too long every time.

"How is yawning even cute?!" he thinks, immediately looking away before anyone notices.

Meanwhile he's the one yawning again because you made it contagious... and because he's down bad.

ZIPPER

Martin is struggling with his zipper - pulling it up, then down, then up again - getting more frustrated every second.

He finally jumps in place with a little annoyed huff, like the zipper personally offended him.

You walk over, gently take the fabric, and fix it in one smooth motion, zipping it all the way up.

When your eyes meet afterwards, he completely freezes.

He can't even say thank you.

And you walk away just as flustered, cheeks warm, pretending that didn't feel like a whole moment.

---

✎Masterlist

@corteggs-for-breakfast

You nod.

"You looked like you needed it."

He doesn't react big - he never does - but something in his expression softens. His shoulders drop a little, like the tension just melts out of him.

He picks up the pudding and turns it in his hand, checking the flavor like he's making sure it's real.

"Thanks," he says, simple but sincere. "Seriously."

You shrug like it's nothing, but he keeps looking at you for a second longer than normal. Not intense - just... warm. Appreciative.

Across the room, Seonghyeon notices.

Of course he does.

He nudges Martin.

"Hyung got pudding."

Martin glances over.

"Oh. Nice."

And that's it.

They go back to stretching.

Completely oblivious.

But Seonghyeon keeps watching James out of the corner of his eye, because he sees the way James opens the pudding immediately - not saving it for later like he usually does - and the tiny smile he tries to hide when he takes the first bite.

James catches him staring.

"What," he says flatly.

Seonghyeon just grins.

"Nothing."

James rolls his eyes, but he's still holding the pudding like it's the best part of his day.

When you walk past him again, he taps the lid lightly with his finger.

"It's good," he says.

Which, from James, is basically a love letter.

You smile.

He looks away quickly, pretending to focus on his shoelaces again.

And the rest of the members?

Still clueless.

Except Seonghyeon, who's definitely filing this away for later.

---

MARTIN 🐕‍🦺 -

It's almost 11 p.m.

The company sent everyone home early, but Martin texted you:

"I need snacks. Emergency."

So now you're standing in the convenience store with him, both of you half‑awake, surrounded by instant ramen and questionable energy drinks.

He's staring at the shelves like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

"I don't know what I want," he mutters. "Everything looks good but also... not good."

You reach into your bag and pull out the mint chocolate bar you bought earlier - the exact brand he always rants about like it's a personality trait.

You hold it out to him.

"Here. I brought you this."

Martin freezes.

Not dramatically - just a tiny, stunned pause, like his brain lagged.

He looks at the chocolate.

Then at you.

Then back at the chocolate.

"No way," he says quietly.

You shrug.

"You mentioned craving it yesterday."

He takes it slowly, like he's afraid it'll disappear if he moves too fast.

Then he breaks into the biggest, brightest grin - the kind that makes his whole face light up.

"Dude. You're actually the best."

He opens it immediately, takes a bite, and does that little happy bounce he does when food hits his soul.

"This is so good," he says, pointing at the bar like it personally saved his life. "You're a genius."

You laugh, and he nudges your shoulder with his, casual but warm.

Then the automatic door slides open.

Keonho walks in, hood up, looking like a tired raccoon.

He spots the two of you in the aisle.

"Oh. You guys are here too."

He grabs a drink, completely oblivious - until he notices the mint chocolate in Martin's hand.

"...Did you buy that?" he asks.

Martin shakes his head proudly.

"She brought it for me."

Keonho blinks.

"Oh."

He doesn't say anything else.

Just gives Martin a look - the kind that says "I see you" without actually saying it.

Martin lightly kicks his ankle.

"Don't start."

Keonho raises his hands in surrender.

"I didn't say anything."

But he definitely knows.

Martin goes back to eating, leaning against the shelf, looking way too happy for someone holding mint chocolate at 11 p.m.

Every few seconds, he glances at you again - small smile, soft eyes - like he's still surprised you remembered.

---

JUHOON 🐢 -

The rain has been coming down all day - steady, soft, the kind that makes the whole building feel quieter than usual.

You push open the break room door and find Juhoon sitting at the small table, hoodie up, staring at the vending machine like it personally offended him.

He sighs.

"They don't have anything spicy today," he mutters to himself.

You clear your throat, and he looks up - surprised, but in that calm Juhoon way where his eyebrows lift just a little.

You hold up the Ottogi Yeul ramen cup.

"I brought you this."

Juhoon blinks once.

Then twice.

He sits up straighter, the tiniest shift, but enough to show you caught him off guard.

"...yeul?" he says quietly.

You nod.

"You mentioned craving it last week."

He takes the ramen from your hands slowly, like he's making sure he's not imagining it. His fingers brush yours for half a second - not on purpose, just soft, accidental contact - but he freezes anyway.

Then he exhales, a small breath that sounds almost like relief.

"Thank you," he says, voice low but sincere. "This is... perfect."

He stands and immediately starts filling the kettle with water.

Not rushing - just focused, like this is suddenly the most important task of his day.

You sit at the table while he waits for the water to boil.

He keeps glancing at you - not staring, not obvious - just little looks, like he's checking if you're still there.

The door opens.

James walks in, grabs a bottle from the fridge, and stops when he sees the ramen in Juhoon's hands.

"...Where'd you get that?" he asks.

Juhoon doesn't even look up.

"She brought it."

James nods slowly.

"Oh."

He doesn't tease.

Doesn't smirk.

Doesn't say anything else.

But the way he looks between the two of you?

Yeah... he definitely noticed.

He leaves without another word.

Juhoon pours the hot water into the cup, sets the lid back on, and sits across from you.

He taps the top of the ramen lightly with his finger - a small, almost shy gesture.

"I really appreciate it," he says. "You didn't have to go out of your way."

You shrug.

"It's just ramen."

He shakes his head, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No. It's not."

The rain keeps falling outside.

The kettle clicks off.

And Juhoon sits there, quietly happy, waiting for his ramen to cook - stealing soft glances at you every few seconds like he can't help it.

---

SEONGHYEON 🦊-

It's early.

Like... too early.

The sun is barely up, the air is cold, and the members are dragging themselves toward the building like zombies.

Seonghyeon is the last to arrive - hood up, hair messy, backpack hanging off one shoulder, yawning so hard he looks like he might ascend.

He spots you standing near the entrance and waves, all sleepy and soft.

"Morning..." he mumbles, voice still raspy.

You hold out a small carton of chocolate milk.

"For you."

He stops walking.

Just... stops.

He blinks at the carton like it's glowing.

"...Chocolate milk?" he says, voice suddenly awake.

You nod.

"You looked tired yesterday. Thought you might want it."

And that's when he lights up.

Not a big dramatic reaction - just this pure, bright smile that hits you like warm sunlight. His whole face softens, eyes crinkling, dimples showing.

"Really? You brought this for me?"

He takes it gently, like it's precious, and immediately hugs it to his chest.

"This is my favorite," he says, almost shy. "Thank you."

He opens it right away, takes a sip, and does that little happy bounce he does when something tastes good.

Then he looks at you again - softer this time.

"You're really sweet, you know that?"

Before you can respond, the door opens behind him.

Keonho steps out, rubbing his eyes.

He sees the chocolate milk.

Then sees Seonghyeon's smile.

Then sees you.

"...What's going on?" he asks, suspicious but half-asleep.

Seonghyeon immediately panics.

"N-nothing! She just- I mean- it's just chocolate milk!"

Keonho raises an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh."

He walks inside, but not before giving Seonghyeon a look - the "I'm going to tease you about this later" look.

Seonghyeon groans into his hands.

"He's never going to let this go..."

But then he peeks at you over his fingers, cheeks a little pink.

"...Still. I'm really happy you brought it."

He takes another sip, smiling to himself as he follows you inside - chocolate milk in hand, mood instantly 100x better.

---

KEONHO 🐶 -

The group decided to grab food after practice - nothing fancy, just the mall food court. Everyone's scattered around different stalls, debating menus like it's a life-or-death decision.

You're standing in line at the fry place when you hear hurried footsteps behind you.

Keonho appears, slightly out of breath, hair a little messy, eyes wide with panic.

"Uh- do you have cash?" he whispers urgently.

You blink.

"What? Why?"

He holds up his empty hands like he's confessing a crime.

"I... forgot my wallet."

You stare at him.

He stares back.

Then he adds, dramatically:

"And I really wanted fries."

You sigh, but you're already pulling out your card because he looks like a kicked puppy.

"Fine. I'll get them."

His whole face lights up instantly - like someone turned on a lamp inside him.

"Really?! You're the best!"

He bounces on his toes while you order, peeking over the counter like a little kid waiting for his food.

When the fries come out, you hand him the cup.

He takes it with both hands like it's a sacred offering.

"Oh my gosh," he whispers. "They're warm."

He pops one in his mouth and does a tiny happy dance - just a little wiggle of his shoulders, but enough to make you laugh.

Then he holds the fries out to you.

"Here. You have one."

You raise an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

He nods aggressively.

"You bought them. It's the rules."

You take one, and he beams like he just did something heroic.

Across the food court, James is carrying a tray and watching the two of you.

He squints.

"...Did she buy him fries?"

Martin looks over.

"Oh yeah. He forgot his wallet again."

James sighs deeply, like this is the 47th time this has happened.

But Keonho doesn't notice any of that - he's too busy eating fries and walking beside you like a happy duckling.

At one point, he nudges your arm lightly.

"Thank you," he says, softer now. "I really mean it."

You shrug.

"It's just fries."

He shakes his head, cheeks full, eyes warm.

"No. It's not."

And then he offers you another fry - the longest, crispiest one - because in Keonho language, that's basically a love poem.

---

✎ Masterlist

@corteggs-for-breakfast

James.

He’s holding you by the waist with one hand, the other braced on your arm, keeping you steady. His pink in‑ears dangle from his fingers, forgotten.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

His eyes widen just slightly — not dramatic, not shocked, just that tiny James micro‑expression he gets when something catches him off guard.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, steady, but there’s a hint of breathlessness he didn’t mean to let slip.

You nod, flustered. 

“Yeah— I just— the cable—”

He glances down at the floor, then back at you, still holding you like he’s not sure you’re stable yet.

“You need to watch where you’re going,” he says, but it’s not scolding. 

It’s soft. 

Concern disguised as annoyance.

You try to step back, but his hand stays on your waist for a second longer than necessary — like he’s double‑checking you’re not going to fall again.

Then he realizes it.

He lets go immediately, clearing his throat and looking away like he didn’t just catch you like a scene out of a drama.

Martin, passing by: 

“WOAHHHH, ZHAO SAVING LIVES OUT HERE—”

James shoots him a look that could silence a stadium.

Then he turns back to you, calmer now, slipping his in‑ears back on.

“…Be careful,” he says quietly. “You scared me for a second.”

You blink. 

“You? Scared?”

He gives you that tiny half‑smile — the one he does when he’s trying not to show he’s flustered.

“Don’t make me catch you again,” he mutters, walking past you toward the stage.

But as he passes, his hand brushes your elbow — light, intentional, protective — like he’s still making sure you’re steady.

And when he thinks you’re not looking, he glances back at you once. 

Just once. 

Just long enough to replay the moment in his head.

---

MARTIN 🐕‍🦺

The outdoor market is packed — vendors shouting, tourists wandering, music playing from a speaker somewhere. Martin is walking ahead of you, holding a skewer of something he insisted you “absolutely HAVE to try,” waving it around like a kid showing off a trophy.

You’re trying to keep up, weaving through people, when someone bumps your shoulder. You stumble, your foot catches on the edge of a booth rug, and you pitch forward—

Straight into Martin’s back.

He yelps, drops his skewer, and spins around just in time to catch you by the arms before you face‑plant into a display of handmade soaps.

“WOAH— WOAH— (Y/n)!” 

His voice cracks like he’s going through puberty again.

You’re gripping his sleeves, heart racing. 

“I— I tripped—”

He looks at you like you just survived a near‑death experience.

“YOU ALMOST DIED,” he declares dramatically, still holding onto you like you’re made of glass.

You try to step back, but he doesn’t let go.

“No, no, no, stay still, you’re unstable,” he says, eyes wide, scanning you like he’s checking for injuries. “Are you okay? Are your legs okay? Do you need water? Do you need a chair? Do you need—”

“Martin, I’m fine.”

He blinks. 

Then he realizes he’s still holding your arms.

He drops them instantly and takes a full step back, hands up like he’s been caught doing something illegal.

“I wasn’t— I mean— I just— you scared me,” he mutters, suddenly shy, rubbing the back of his neck.

A vendor nearby laughs. 

“Cute couple,” she says under her breath.

Martin CHOKES.

“We’re— we’re not— I mean— she just— she tripped— I caught— it wasn’t—”

He gives up, face turning pink.

You bend down to pick up the skewer he dropped, but he practically dives to stop you.

“No! Don’t touch that! You almost died once today, that’s enough!”

You stare at him. 

He stares back, flustered and dramatic and trying so hard to act normal.

Then, quieter, almost embarrassed:

“…Just walk next to me, okay? So I can catch you again if you fall.”

He says it like it’s nothing. 

But his ears are bright red.

And for the rest of the market trip, he stays half a step closer than usual — pretending it’s coincidence, but absolutely not fooling anyone.

---

JUHOON 🐢

The hallway is dim and quiet, the kind of late‑night silence that makes every sound feel louder. Most of the staff are downstairs grabbing snacks, and the members are scattered between rooms getting ready for the next shoot. You’re walking down the carpeted hallway with a stack of wardrobe pieces in your arms, trying to balance everything without dropping it.

Juhoon steps out of his room at the exact same moment you pass by, adjusting the zipper on his jacket. He glances up just as you shift the clothes in your arms—

—and your foot catches on the edge of the carpet.

You stumble forward, the clothes slipping, your balance gone.

Before you can hit the floor, a hand grabs your wrist. 

Firm. Steady. 

Then another hand catches your waist, pulling you upright in one smooth, instinctive motion.

You end up pressed against him, breath caught in your throat.

Juhoon freezes.

Not dramatically. 

Not loudly. 

Just… completely still.

His eyes widen a fraction — barely noticeable unless you’re close. His grip on your waist tightens for a second, making sure you’re steady before he even thinks about letting go.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice low and warm in the empty hallway.

You nod, flustered. 

“I—I tripped. Sorry—”

He shakes his head once, slow, controlled.

“Don’t apologize.” 

His voice is softer now. “I’ve got you.”

You swear your heart stops.

He helps you straighten the clothes in your arms, his fingers brushing yours — light, careful, like he’s afraid to startle you. When he finally steps back, it’s only half a step, like he’s still making sure you’re stable.

Then he clears his throat, eyes flicking away for a moment.

“You should be careful,” he says, but it’s not scolding. It’s concern wrapped in calm. “These hallways are… tricky.”

You almost laugh. 

The carpet is perfectly flat.

He knows it. 

You know it. 

But he’s trying.

You thank him, and he nods, but he doesn’t move. He just watches you for a second — that quiet, observant stare he does when he’s thinking too much.

Then, almost under his breath:

“…If you fall again, make sure I’m close.”

You blink. 

He looks away immediately, pretending he didn’t say it.

And as you walk down the hallway, you can feel his eyes on you — not in a weird way, but in that protective, silent, slow‑burn Juhoon way that says he’s replaying the moment in his head whether he wants to or not.

---

SEONGHYEON 🦊

The bookstore is quiet — the kind of quiet where you can hear pages turning and soft music playing overhead. You’re walking down one of the narrow aisles, scanning the shelves for a specific photobook the stylist asked for. Seonghyeon is a few steps behind you, hands in his pockets, quietly humming along to the music.

You reach up to grab a book from a high shelf, step back without looking—

—and your heel catches on the edge of a display stand.

You stumble.

Before you can even gasp, a hand grabs your arm. 

Then another steadies your waist. 

You’re pulled upright in one smooth, instinctive motion.

You end up pressed against Seonghyeon’s chest, his arms around you, his breath catching in surprise.

He freezes.

Completely.

His eyes go wide, his lips part just slightly, and he looks like someone just unplugged his brain.

“Ah—” 

It’s barely a sound, more like a soft exhale of shock.

You straighten up quickly, flustered. 

“I—I tripped, sorry—”

He shakes his head immediately, too fast, too shy.

“No, it’s okay— I mean— it’s fine— I just—” 

He stops, swallows, tries again. 

“You scared me.”

His voice is quiet, almost whisper‑soft in the stillness of the aisle.

He steps back a little, but his hand stays on your arm for a second longer than necessary — like he’s making absolutely sure you’re steady before letting go.

Then he realizes it.

He drops his hand instantly, looking away so fast his hair falls into his eyes.

“I wasn’t— I mean— I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he says, ears turning pink. “I just… reacted.”

You smile, and he gets even redder.

He bends down to pick up the book you dropped, but his fingers brush yours and he jerks back like he touched something hot.

“S‑sorry,” he mutters, staring at the floor.

You take the book from him, and he nods, still flustered, still avoiding eye contact.

But as you turn to walk away, you hear him quietly clear his throat.

“…I’m glad I was close,” he says softly, almost to himself.

You glance back.

He’s looking at you now — shy, pink‑eared, but with that tiny, warm smile he only shows when he’s being completely honest.

And for the rest of the time in the bookstore, he stays just a little closer behind you… 

not enough to be obvious, 

but enough that if you tripped again, he’d catch you without thinking.

---

KEONHO 🐶

The arcade is loud enough to shake your bones — neon lights flashing, kids screaming, machines beeping, Martin yelling about beating a high score somewhere in the distance. You’re weaving through the maze of games, trying to catch up to the boys, when Keonho turns around and waves at you with both hands like an excited golden retriever.

“(Y/n)! Look! I won a plushie—”

You don’t even get to see it.

Someone bumps your shoulder, you stumble, your foot catches on the edge of a dance‑machine platform, and you pitch forward—

Right into Keonho.

He drops the plushie. 

He drops EVERYTHING.

“AH—!” 

He catches you by the shoulders, but he’s so startled that he stumbles backward too, and the two of you end up pressed against a claw machine, his arms wrapped around you like he’s trying to shield you from an explosion.

For a full second, he just stands there, wide‑eyed, holding you like you’re about to fall through the floor.

Then—

“OH MY GOSH ARE YOU OKAY?!” 

He’s yelling. 

He’s panicking. 

He’s shaking you gently like he’s checking if you’re alive.

You’re breathless. 

“I—I tripped—”

“YOU TRIPPED?!” 

He looks horrified. 

“WHY DID YOU TRIP? WHO MADE YOU TRIP? WAS IT ME? DID I TRIP YOU? DID THE FLOOR TRIP YOU?”

You stare at him. 

He stares back, still holding your arms.

Then he realizes how close you are.

His entire face goes red.

He drops his hands like they’re on fire and takes a full step back, nearly tripping over a stool himself.

“I— I wasn’t— I mean— I didn’t mean to— I just— you fell— I caught— I—”

He gives up, covers his face with both hands, and groans into them.

Meanwhile, Martin appears out of nowhere, holding a giant stuffed shark.

“BRO. DID YOU JUST PRINCESS‑CATCH HER?”

Keonho screams. 

“I DIDN’T PRINCESS‑CATCH ANYONE— SHE ALMOST DIED—”

You’re standing there, trying not to laugh, still a little shaken.

Keonho peeks at you through his fingers.

“…Are you sure you’re okay?” 

His voice is tiny now. 

Soft. 

Worried.

You nod.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for ten minutes.

Then, shyly, he picks up the plushie he dropped — a little pink dinosaur — and hands it to you.

“…You can have it,” he mumbles. “For… for surviving.”

And for the rest of the night, he walks slightly behind you, arms half‑raised like he’s ready to catch you again at any moment.

---

✎Masterlist

@corteggs-for-breakfast

A boy sitting on the low brick wall, elbows on his knees, backpack at his feet. His hair falls into his eyes, and he's picking at the zipper of his gym bag like he's trying to distract himself.

James.

Your only friend.

You slow down, breathless, but smiling.

"Hey," you say, hopping up onto the wall beside him, making a light joke.

You laugh a little, trying to tease him out of whatever mood he's in.

But he doesn't laugh.

He looks up at you, and his eyes are sad in a way you've never seen before.

Your smile fades.

"What's wrong?"

He swallows, staring at his hands.

"I... I have to tell you something."

Your stomach drops.

He takes a breath.

"I'm leaving the school."

You blink.

"What? For the summer?"

He shakes his head.

"No. I'm not coming back next year."

The world feels like it tilts a little.

"But... but we can still hang out," you say quickly, desperate. "We can still talk. I can come over, or you can come over, or-"

He cuts you off gently.

"I'm moving away."

Your throat tightens.

"Oh."

You look down at your shoes, blinking fast. The sounds of kids laughing and shouting feel far away now, like they're happening in another world.

James watches you, guilt written all over his face.

"I didn't want to tell you today," he says quietly. "But I didn't want to just disappear."

You nod, even though your chest hurts.

He was your only friend.

The only one who sat with you at lunch.

The only one who didn't laugh when the other kids did.

The only one who made school feel less scary.

And now he's leaving.

A voice cuts through the air.

"Yufan! Come on! We have to go!"

His mom's voice.

She's standing by the car, waving him over impatiently.

He doesn't move.

You don't either.

You just look at each other, both frozen in the moment you don't want to end.

He whispers, "I can't leave you."

Your breath catches.

"Friends don't say goodbye," he says, voice shaking just a little.

Then he reaches for his gym bag, unzips the side pocket, and pulls something out.

A small white circle.

An AirTag.

He presses it into your hand, closing your fingers around it.

"They say 'I'll see you later.'"

You stare at him, eyes stinging.

His mom calls again, louder this time.

He steps back from the wall, still looking at you like he's memorizing your face.

You swallow hard.

"Goodb-"

Your voice cracks.

You try again.

"See you later, Yufan."

He gives the smallest, saddest smile.

Then he turns and walks toward the car.

And you sit on the wall, clutching the AirTag in your hand like it's the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

---

-Years Later-

HYBE had given them the day off.

A miracle.

So James decided to do something he hadn't done in months:

go outside without a schedule, without a manager, without a camera, without anyone needing anything from him, without Martin asking where his other shoe is, without Keonho making fun of martin for not knowing where his other shoe is, without Seonghyeon telling Keonho not to bully Martin for not knowing where his other shoe is, without Juhoon complaining to Seonghyeon that even if he told Keonho not bully martin for not knowing where his other shoe is, he still would bully him. And really just all of it. It was nice to have a break once and while.

Just... to breathe.

He jogs down the sidewalk, earbuds in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, the morning sun warm on his face. The city is waking up around him - cars humming, a dog barking somewhere, a barista dragging out a sidewalk sign.

He's listening to some random playlist he made at 2 a.m. The lyrics from Wonder Girls 'Be My Baby' drowning out the bustling life around him.

°•¤●

Watching, I keep watching

Watching, 계속 바라보며 난

Waiting, just waiting for you to come

Waiting, 네가 다가오기만을 바래

Come to me quickly and take me please

어서 내게 와 날 데려가 제발

Dreaming, I hope your heart is the same as mine

Dreaming, 네 맘도 나 같기를

°•¤●

He's thinking about absolutely nothing important.

Just... James things.

Like:

- why the thrift store near the river always smells like cinnamon

- whether he should buy another mug even though he already has too many

- how the clouds look like someone smudged them with their thumb

- whether he should get a smoothie or a pastry after this

- why his left shoelace keeps coming undone even though he double‑knotted it

His brain is quiet in that soft, peaceful way it only gets when he's alone.

He slows to a stop at a crosswalk, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waits for the light to change. A couple of people stand beside him, scrolling on their phones. A cyclist rolls up behind him.

°•¤●

°•¤●

James pulls out his phone to check the time.

The screen lights up.

And then-

Buzz.

A notification slides down from the top.

He glances at it casually.

Then freezes.

"Gym AirTag - 100 ft away."

He stares at the words.

His breath catches.

His heart stumbles in his chest.

That...

that can't be right.

He doesn't have that AirTag anymore.

He hasn't had it in years.

He gave it away.

He gave it to her.

His fingers tighten around the phone.

For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

The world around him keeps moving - people walking, cars passing, the crosswalk light turning white - but James doesn't notice any of it.

He slowly lifts his head.

Looks left.

Looks right.

Turns in a full circle, scanning the street, the storefronts, the café patio, the people passing by.

His pulse is loud in his ears.

It can't be real.

It can't be her.

It's been so long.

Too long.

But the alert is still there.

100 ft.

Close.

So close he could reach out and touch the air she's breathing.

He swallows hard, standing completely still in the middle of the sidewalk as the city moves around him.

A car honks somewhere.

Someone brushes past him.

The walk signal turns white.

He doesn't move.

He just stares at the notification, heart thudding in his chest.

Then-

A door chimes.

He looks up.

A girl steps out of the café across the street, pushing the door open with her shoulder, a to‑go cup in one hand, keys in the other. She's older now - obviously - but something about the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she looks down when she walks, the way she moves...

It hits him like a punch.

His breath catches.

No way.

No way.

He squints, studying her face carefully, like he's afraid he'll get it wrong.

But he doesn't.

It's her.

Older.

Different.

But unmistakably her.

The girl he left behind.

The girl he gave his AirTag to.

The girl he promised he'd "see later."

His chest tightens.

She starts walking down the sidewalk, away from the café, completely unaware.

James turns.

Walks back the way she's going.

Fast.

Almost too fast.

He yanks out his earbuds, letting them dangle around his neck. His hands shake a little, but he doesn't notice. His mind is buzzing, loud and quiet at the same time.

He glances both ways - barely - and then jogs across the street, ignoring the fact that the light is already blinking red.

He lands on the other side and keeps moving, weaving through people, trying not to run but definitely not walking.

He catches up enough to be behind her - not close, but close enough that he can breathe again.

He opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

He tries again.

"Hey!.."

It comes out soft, breathless, unsure.

She stops.

Looks around.

Then turns fully.

Her eyes land on him.

She freezes.

He freezes.

She's holding her keys - and dangling from the ring, right next to her favorite keychain, is the AirTag.

His AirTag.

The one he gave her on that brick wall years ago.

He's holding his phone.

She's holding the AirTag.

The world feels like it's holding its breath.

"Yufan?" she says, voice small, shocked.

He exhales, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey..." he says again, softer this time. Real. Present. Like he's finally convinced himself she's not a hallucination.

He steps closer, careful, almost hesitant - like he's approaching a memory he's afraid might disappear if he moves too fast.

She's staring at him like she's trying to reconcile the boy she knew with the man standing in front of her.

"I... can't believe it's you," she says, her voice small but warm. "It's been ages."

He nods, a breathy laugh slipping out - half disbelief, half relief.

"Yeah," he says. "It really has."

She holds onto her keys tightly, nervousness running through her veins.

"I heard you're famous now," she says with a shy smile. "I... never thought I'd ever be able to talk to you again."

James shakes his head immediately, almost too fast, like the idea makes him uncomfortable.

"I never thought I'd see you again either," he admits. "But it doesn't matter about that."

He laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Even if I was as big as Michael Jackson, I'd jump off the stage if I saw you in the crowd."

She laughs - a real, gentle laugh - and he feels something warm settle in his chest.

There's a beat of quiet, the kind that feels full instead of awkward.

He clears his throat.

"Can I... get your number?" he asks, voice careful but hopeful, almost like he's afraid his mom will call out his name again to go home and they be pulled apart.

She nods, smiling, and they exchange phones, thumbs brushing screens, both of them smiling like they're trying not to smile too big.

When they hand the phones back, he tucks his into his pocket.

"Where are you going?" he asks, hoping she could talk just a little longer with him.

She shrugs lightly. "Nowhere, really. Home, I guess. I just came to get coffee."

He nods, then gestures down the street.

"Would you want to come with me? I'm going to the thrift store, its just down the street."

She looks at him - surprised, but in a soft way - then nods.

"Yeah. Sure."

They fall into step together, walking toward the crosswalk. The light is red, so they stop side by side, the city moving around them, the moment strangely peaceful.

Before he can say anything-

Buzz.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

He pulls it out.

A notification flashes across the screen.

"AirTag found."

♡

✎Masterlist

@corteggs-for-breakfast