#seonghyeonxreader

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

You fall into step beside him as you walk down the long hallway.

It's quiet - the kind of quiet that makes every little sound feel louder.

He walks with that calm, steady pace he always has, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes forward.

You try to make small talk.

"So... uh... long day, right?"

He huffs a soft laugh - that gentle, warm one he always gives you without thinking.

"Yeah. Pretty long."

You blush.

Barely.

But enough that you feel it.

He notices.

Not in a teasing way - just in that quiet James way where he sees everything and says nothing.

You try to stay professional, smiling politely, keeping your voice steady.

He glances at you once - quick, subtle - and something about the way you're trying so hard to be normal makes the corner of his mouth lift.

Cute.

He thinks it's cute.

You reach the storage closet.

It's dark.

Narrow.

Barely enough room for one person.

He's reaching up to check the top shelf, fingers brushing dust, eyes scanning labels in the dim light.

You're beside him, crouched on the lower racks, humming under your breath as you search.

He hears it.

He pretends he doesn't.

Then he hears a sound - a low scrape, the shift of weight on metal.

His eyes flick up.

A box is sliding forward.

Too fast.

Too heavy.

He reacts before he thinks.

"Hold on-"

He reaches up to stop it, but the edge of the box catches his wrist, knocking his balance off.

His foot slips on the uneven floor.

And suddenly he's falling forward.

Toward you.

He sees your head turn in surprise.

He sees your eyes widen.

He sees your hand reach out instinctively.

And then-

Your lips brush his.

Soft.

Warm.

Barely a second.

But enough.

His breath catches.

His eyes go wide - not panicked, just stunned, like his brain is trying to process what just happened and failing.

He pulls back a few inches, bracing one hand on the shelf behind you to keep from knocking you over.

The room is dark, but he can still see the outline of your face - close, too close - and the way you're frozen, breath held.

His heart is beating faster than he wants to admit.

"...sorry," he says quietly, voice lower than usual. "The box slipped."

He's looking at you now - really looking - checking your expression, making sure you're okay, trying to read the tiny details he always notices.

You're blushing.

He can't see the color in the dark, but he can hear it in your voice when you whisper:

"It's okay."

Something warm flickers in his chest.

He swallows once, steadying himself, and reaches past you to grab the mic packs - careful not to touch you again, careful not to make the moment bigger than it already feels.

But he can still feel the ghost of that accidental touch.

He steps back, giving you space, even though part of him wants to stay close just a second longer.

"Got them," he murmurs. "Let's go."

You walk out together, both pretending nothing happened.

But the air between you feels different - warm, quiet, and definitely somthing else.

He hands you the mic packs at the door, eyes flicking to yours for just a moment longer than usual.

He nods.

You nod, and walk away.

He watches you go for a second - just a second - before turning the other direction, hands back in his pockets, expression unreadable.

But inside?

He's replaying that tiny moment in the dark.

And he's definitely not as calm as he looks.

---

LATER~

Lights off.

Curtains drawn.

The only sound is the soft hum of the AC.

James lies on his back in bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him.

He's been like this for ten minutes.

Not moving.

Not blinking much.

Just... thinking.

His mind replays the moment in the storage closet.

Not the box falling.

Not the stumble.

Just that tiny, accidental brush of your lips.

He exhales slowly through his nose.

"...that was... something."

He says it out loud, but barely - more breath than voice.

He covers his eyes with his forearm.

He's not embarrassed.

Not panicked.

Just... surprised.

And maybe a little warm inside.

He remembers how you tried to act normal afterward.

How you kept your voice steady.

How you smiled politely even though he could tell you were flustered.

He lets out a tiny laugh - soft, almost fond.

"She's... cute," he murmurs to himself.

He doesn't say it dramatically.

He doesn't kick his feet or bury his face in a pillow.

He just acknowledges it quietly, like a fact he discovered by accident.

He thinks about the way you tried to make small talk in the hallway.

How you joked to fill the silence.

How you blushed when he laughed.

He didn't miss any of it.

He never does.

He shifts slightly, turning his head toward the wall.

His expression stays calm, but his heartbeat is still a little faster than usual.

He presses his lips together for a moment - not nervous, just thoughtful.

He didn't hate it.

He didn't expect it.

But he didn't hate it.

He sighs once, long and quiet, and finally closes his eyes.

"...I should sleep," he whispers.

But he doesn't.

He just lies there, replaying that tiny moment in the dark storage closet, the way your breath caught, the way you whispered "It's okay," the way you walked beside him afterward like nothing happened.

He smiles - barely, just a small curve of his lips.

Then he rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket up.

Calm on the outside.

Absolutely not calm on the inside.

---

-MARTIN 🐕‍🦺

Martin begged to go out.

Not for food.

Not for clothes.

Not for fun.

For shoes.

Specifically: Converse.

So here you are, following him through a very fancy, very expensive store, trying to look professional while he yaps happily about high‑tops like he's giving a TED Talk.

He's walking ahead of you, tall and lanky, hands flying as he talks.

"And then there's the platform ones, but those crease weird, so I don't know if I should- oh look, they have the limited editions-"

You're barely listening.

You're just... looking at him.

The way he towers over everyone.

The way his dandelion‑blonde hair practically glows under the store lights.

The way he's so excited he keeps bouncing on his heels.

He turns around mid‑sentence and catches you staring.

He smiles.

That big, bright, boyish Martin smile.

You both look away immediately.

You pretend to examine a random display.

He pretends he wasn't just smiling at you like that.

You follow him into the Converse section.

He's already digging through shelves like a golden retriever who found a toy bin.

You crouch down to look at a pair of

(y/f/c) ones - bright, cheerful, very you.

He notices.

"OHHH those are cute! But look at THIS one-!"

He reaches up to grab a box above your head.

He's excited.

Too excited.

He leans forward to keep the box from sliding.

You stand up and turn around at the exact same moment.

And-

boop.

Your lips brush his.

Just a tiny, soft, accidental kiss.

Both of you freeze.

Martin's eyes go HUGE - like cartoon huge - pupils blown, eyebrows halfway to the ceiling.

He jerks back so fast he almost knocks over an entire display.

"Oh- OH MY GOSH- I- I DIDN'T- THAT WAS- I'M- SORRY-"

He slaps both hands over his mouth.

Then pulls his hood over his head.

Then crouches down like he's trying to disappear into the floor.

He screams quietly into his hoodie.

"ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh-"

You're standing there holding the stupid shoes, blushing so hard you feel like a space heater.

"It's okay," you whisper. "It was an accident."

He peeks out of his hood like a terrified meerkat.

"You're not mad?"

"No! Martin, it's fine."

He stands up too fast, nearly trips, then grabs the shoes out of your hands.

"I'M BUYING THESE FOR YOU."

"What? No- Martin, you don't have to-"

"I HAVE TO. I HAVE TO FIX THE SITUATION."

"You didn't do anything wrong-"

"I KISSED YOU IN A CONVERSE STORE."

"It was an accident!"

"I'M STILL BUYING THEM."

He marches to the register, hood still up, ears bright red, holding the shoes like they're evidence in a crime.

You follow him, trying not to laugh.

He pays.

He hands you the bag without making eye contact.

Then, in the softest, tiniest voice:

"...sorry."

You smile.

"It's okay, Martin. Really."

He nods, still red, still flustered, still adorable.

And as you walk out of the store, he keeps glancing at you like he's checking to make sure you're not secretly upset.

He's a mess.

A sweet, chaotic, dandelion‑haired mess.

And he absolutely did not mean to kiss you.

But he's definitely going to think about it for the next three years.

And you're definitely going to think about that moment every time you lace up your new converse. <3

-JUHOON 🐢

The backstage tech room is dim and calm - cables coiled neatly, equipment humming softly, the air warm from stage lights cooling down.

Juhoon sits on a low stool.

You stand on a narrow raised platform so you can reach his face to fix his makeup.

You're trying very hard not to look at him.

Because every time you do, he's already looking at you - not intensely, not boldly, just... gently.

Soft eyes.

Quiet attention.

Like he's listening even when you're not speaking.

You clear your throat, trying to sound normal.

"You're doing okay, right? Not too tired?"

He shakes his head, voice low and warm.

"No. I'm alright."

You nod, focusing on the makeup sponge in your hand.

He tries small talk too - which is rare for him.

"You... always do a good job," he says softly.

You freeze for half a second.

"Oh- thank you."

He looks down shyly, then back up, eyes warm.

You lean in to fix the makeup around his eye.

You're holding a palette in one hand, a brush in the other.

You're standing right on the edge of the raised platform.

And you're not paying attention to your footing.

Your heel slips.

Just a tiny shift - but enough to throw off your balance.

You gasp softly, trying to catch yourself, but your hands are full.

Juhoon reacts instantly.

He reaches out, hands gentle but firm around your waist, steadying you.

But the momentum pulls you forward.

And your lips-

press softly against his.

Not a crash.

Not chaotic.

Just a quiet, accidental touch.

You freeze.

He freezes.

His eyes widen - not in panic, but in stunned softness, like he's trying to understand what just happened without startling you.

His hands stay on your waist, steady, careful, making sure you don't fall.

You pull back first, breath shaky.

"I- I'm so sorry," you whisper, mortified.

He shakes his head immediately, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay."

You look up at him, still flustered.

"I didn't mean- I slipped- I wasn't-"

He shakes his head again, even gentler this time.

"It's okay," he repeats, softer. "Really. Please don't be upset."

You nod quickly, too embarrassed to stay another second.

"I- I should go. I'm sorry."

You step off the platform, clutching your makeup tools, trying to escape before your face combusts.

He reaches out - instinctively - like he wants to stop you, or at least reassure you.

But he hesitates.

His hand hangs in the air for a moment after you turn away.

Fingers half‑curled.

Expression soft.

Eyes following you.

Then his hand slowly lowers.

He sighs - quiet, barely audible - the kind of sigh that carries more emotion than he'll ever say out loud.

He sits there alone in the dim tech room, staring at the spot where you stood, replaying the moment in silence.

Not upset.

Not flustered.

Just... thoughtful.

And wishing he'd said something more.

---

Ok guys.... so at this point I'm just going to say I don't really want to do this reaction for Keonho and Seonghyeon yet becuase they're still minors so....

idk maybe later on I'll come back and update. Pls don't be upset, I don't want this be a creepy or weird....

I hope this reaction wasn't like that...😭 idk let me know guys, if it is I'll take it down. Thank you for your time and comments and likes readers and COERS!💚❤️

✐Masterlist

@corteggs-for-breakfast