Work Text:
James finds the trend by accident.
It’s some stupid, harmless TikTok thing—“raise your hands, don’t move, no matter what”— usually followed by someone doing something mildly inconvenient. He watches it once.
Twice. Then his mouth tilts into that slow, knowing smile that has ruined careers, and emotional stability worldwide.
“Oh,” he murmurs to himself. “This will end lives.”
Seonghyeon — first victim
Seonghyeon agrees immediately because he trusts James with his soul.
They’re alone in the dorm, phone propped up against a stack of books. James explains the rules very seriously.
“Hands straight up. Don’t move. No reacting.”
Seonghyeon nods, solemn. Raises his arms. Looks at James like this is easy. James steps in close. Close enough that Seonghyeon’s breath stutters already. “Ready?” James asks.
“Yes,” Seonghyeon says, voice steady. Liar. James kisses him.
Not rushed. Not teasing. Just there warm, sure, devastating. Seonghyeon lasts exactly half a second.
His hands drop instantly, one cupping James’s jaw, the other sliding to his waist as he pulls him in like gravity just activated. James makes a surprised little sound into the kiss and
Seonghyeon tilts him, backs him up a step, folds him in so securely it’s almost reverent. The kiss deepens. James tries—tries—to pull back.
Seonghyeon does not let him.
When they finally break, Seonghyeon is breathing hard, forehead pressed to James’s. “…I failed,” he says faintly.
James grins. “Spectacularly.”
Martin — second victim
Martin pretends this is stupid.
“This is dumb,” he says, already raising his arms anyway. “But I will win." James doesn’t argue. He steps in, eyes bright.
He kisses Martin quick at first, just enough to test. Martin doesn’t move. James hums, pleased, and kisses him again. Slower. Deeper.
Martin exhales sharply through his nose.
Then James presses in closer, fingers brushing Martin’s ribs, mouth warm and unrelenting. Martin snaps.
His arms come down like a trap, one hand tangling in James’s hair, the other locked firm at his lower back. He drags James in until there’s no space left, kisses him back with that intense, focused devotion that makes it feel like the rest of the world just… disappears.
James melts right with him this time, smiling into the kiss because oh, there it is. When Martin finally pulls back, forehead to forehead, he mutters:
“You did that on purpose.”
James beams. “You still failed.”
Martin exhales, defeated, and kisses him again anyway.
Keonho — third victim
Keonho is already suspicious.
“This feels like a trap,” he says. “You’re smiling too much.” James bats his lashes. “Hands up.”
Keonho raises them. Wiggling his fingers. “I swear, if you—” James kisses him mid-sentence.
Keonho makes a soft, surprised noise that immediately turns into a laugh into the kiss—and then he’s gone. Arms wrapping around James’s shoulders, lifting him just a little off the floor as he hugs him close, burying him into his chest like mine, mine, mine.
“JAMES,” he laughs breathlessly when they break, still holding him tight. “That’s cheating!”
James’s nose scrunches. “The trend didn’t say I couldn’t kiss you.”
Keonho shakes his head, smiling helplessly, and tucks James even closer like he’s afraid he might escape.
Juhoon — final victim
Juhoon listens very carefully to the rules.
He nods. Raises his hands. Stands perfectly still. James almost feels bad.
Almost.
He steps in slowly this time, giving Juhoon plenty of warning. Juhoon doesn’t move, but his eyes soften, lashes fluttering just slightly.
James kisses him gently. Juhoon holds. For a second. Then his breath breaks.
His arms come down Instantly, hands settling warm and firm at his waist. He pulls James in close, forehead dipping as he deepens the kiss, tucking James securely against him, completely enclosing him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
No rush. No panic. Just total surrender.
When they part, Juhoon rests his forehead against James’s, smiling shy and ruined. “…I tried,” he murmurs.
James laughs softly, heart full, and kisses him again just because he can.
James watches the clips back, delighted. Four attempts.
Four complete failures.
Four boyfriends absolutely incapable of not melting into him.
Even though, Martin and Juhoon do want to give it another shot, and well who is he to say no ? For science, obviously.
they try. they really do. and that’s what makes it so much worse for them
Martin — sheer willpower vs instinct
Martin goes into it like it’s a challenge.
Jaw set. Shoulders squared. Hands straight up, fingers stretched like he’s being measured at a police station.
“This time,” he says flatly, “I’m not moving.”
James hums, clearly unconvinced, and steps in close.
Martin is already struggling because James is right there warm, familiar, his. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet smile, the way he tilts his head just slightly like he’s already planning Martin’s downfall.
James kisses him.
Martin lasts a heartbeat.
A literal fraction of a second passes before something in him snaps—some ancient, feral instinct screaming mine—and his arms come down without permission.
“Fuck—”
One hand cups James’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek automatically, the other hooks around his waist and tugs, hard, like he’s offended by the idea of distance. James makes a small surprised noise and stumbles forward, and Martin uses it to pull him in closer, closer, still not
close enough.
The kiss deepens because Martin can't respond. He tilts James slightly, presses him flush against his chest, forehead dipping instinctively like he’s shielding him from the world.
James tries to pull back, laughing softly. Martin doesn’t let him.
“No,” he mutters into the kiss, voice low and wrecked. “Not done.”
When they finally separate, Martin rests his forehead against James’s, breathing hard, hands still firm at his waist like letting go might physically hurt.
“…It’s not possible,” Martin says finally, defeated.
James grins like he’s just won something very important.
Juhoon — gentle restraint, absolute failure
Juhoon takes it very seriously.
He plants his feet. Raises his hands carefully, deliberately, like if he’s precise enough, he can outthink his own heart.
James watches him with fond amusement before stepping in. “Juhoon,” James says softly, just to check.
Juhoon nods. “I’m ready.” James kisses him.
It’s soft. Tender. Not even trying to be unfair. Juhoon’s breath catches instantly.
He holds. He really does—his hands stay up, trembling slightly, like his body is arguing with itself. His shoulders tense. His jaw tightens. You can almost see the thought forming in his head:
How am I supposed to let my love kiss me and not—
He breaks.
His hands come down like he’s afraid James might disappear if he doesn’t touch him right now, one sliding to James’s waist, the other cradling the back of his head gently, reverently. He pulls James in, not roughly, but urgently, pressing him closer like even zero space feels like too much.
The kiss deepens without Juhoon meaning it to. He hums softly, tilting his head, tucking
James into the safe curve of his body like it’s instinct, like it’s muscle memory written into his bones.
James melts into him, smiling.
Juhoon doesn’t even realize he’s holding him tighter until James’s fingers brush his wrist. When they part, Juhoon keeps his forehead pressed to James’s, eyes still closed.
“…I couldn’t,” he admits quietly.
James kisses his cheek, affectionate and smug. “You didn’t stand a chance.”
Juhoon exhales, arms tightening around him just a little more, because honestly, why would he ever want to let go?
James, later, very casually announces:
“So,” he says, scrolling through the videos, “none of you have self control.” Martin scoffs. Juhoon just shakes his head, fond and helpless.
And James is well....
James is thriving.